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WWWWWW 


GIFT  OF 
Yoshi  S.   Kuno 


t^LU  Jif-  J^^^y^- 


oCih^^r    0    -~    ^ 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

OLIVER    TWIST; 


ALSO, 


PICTURES  FROM  ITALY, 


AND 


AMERICAN    NOTES. 


CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NEW   YORK 

JOHN  W.    LOVELL    COMPANY 

150  Worth  Street,  corner  Mission  Place 


\ 


W 


/ 


/ 


PREFACE. 


Once  upon  a  time  it  was  held  to  be  a  coarse  and  shocking 
circumstance,  that  some  of  the  characters  in  these  pages  are 
chosen  from  the  most  criminal  and  degraded  of  London's 
population. 

As  I  saw  no  reason,  when  I  wrote  this  book,  why  the  dregs 
of  life  (so  long  as  their  speech  did  not  offend  the  ear)  should 
not  serve  the  purpose  of  a  moral,  as  well  as  its  froth  and 
cream,  I  made  bold  to  believe  that  this  same  Once  upon  a 
time  would  not  prove  to  be  all-time  or  even  a  long  time.  I 
saw  many  strong  reasons  for  pursuing  my  course.  I  had 
read  of  thieves  by  scores  ;  seductive  fellows  (amiable  for  the 
most  part),  faultless  in  dress,  plump  in  pocket,  choice  in 
horse-flesh,  bold  in  bearing,  fortunate  in  gallantry,  great  at  a 
song,  a  bottle,  pack  of  cards  or  dice-box,  and  fit  companions 
for  the  bravest.  But  I  had  never  met  (except  in  Hogarth) 
with  the  miserable  reality.  It  appeared  to  me  that  to  draw 
a  knot  of  such  associates  in  crime  as  really  did  exist  ;  to 
paint  them  in  all  their  deformity,  in  all  their  wretchedness, 
in  all  the  squalid  misery  of  their  lives  ;  to  show  them  as 
they  really  were,  forever  skulking  uneasily  through  the 
dirtiest  paths  of  life,  with  the  great  black  ghastly  gallows 
closing  up  their  prospect,  turn  them  where  they  might ;  it 
appeared  to  me  that  to  do  this,  would  be  to  attempt  a  some- 
thing which  was  needed,  and  which  would  be  a  service  to 
society.     And  I  did  it  as  I  best  could. 

In  every  book  I  know,  where  such  characters  are  treated 
of,  allurements  and  fascinations  are  thrown  around  them. 
Even  in  the  Beggar's  Opera,  the  thieves  are  represented  as 

£fll944vO 


iv  PREFACE. 

leading  a  life  which  is  rather  to  be  envied  than  otherwise  ; 
while  Macheath,  with  all  the  captivations  of  command,  and 
the  devotion  of  the  most  beautiful  girl  and  only  pure  char- 
acter in  the  piece,  is  as  much  to  be  admired  and  emulated 
by  weak  beholders,  as  any  fine  gentleman  in  a  red  coat  who 
has  purchased,  as  Voltaire  says,  the  right  to  command  a 
couple  of  thousand  men,  or  so,  and  to  affront  death  at  their 
head.  Johnson's  question,  whether  any  man  will  turn  thief 
because  Macheath  is  reprieved,  seems  to  me  beside  the  mat- 
ter. I  ask  myself,  whether  any  man  will  be  deterred  from 
turning  thief,  because  of  Macheath's  being  sentenced  to 
death,  and  because  of  the  existence  of  Peachum  and  Lockit ; 
and  remembering  the  captain's  roaring  life,  great  appear- 
ance, vast  success,  and  stronger  advantages,  I  feel  assured 
that  nobody  having  a  bent  that  way  will  take  any  warning 
from  him,  or  will  see  any  thing  in  the  play  but  a  flowery 
and  pleasant  road,  conducting  an  honorable  ambition — in 
course  of  time — to  Tyburn  Tree. 

In  fact,  Gay's  witty  satire  on  society  had  a  general  object, 
which  made  him  quite  regardless  of  example  in  this  respect, 
and  gave  him  other  and  wider  aims.  The  same  maybe  said 
of  6ir  Edward  Bulwer's  admirable  and  powerful  novel  of 
Paul  Clifford,  which  can  not  be  fairly  considered  as  having, 
or  as  being  intended  to  have,  any  bearing  on  this  part  of  the 
subject,  one  way  or  other. 

What  manner  of  life  is  that  which  is  described  in  these 
pages,  as  the  every-day  existence  of  a  thief  ?  What  charms 
has  it  for  the  young  and  ill-disposed,  what  allurements  for 
the  most  jolter-headed  of  juveniles  ?  Here  are  no  canter- 
ings  on  moonlit  heaths,  no  merry-makings  in  the  snuggest 
of  all  possible  caverns,  none  of  the  attractions  of  dress,  no 
embroidery,  no  lace,  no  jack-boots,  no  crimson  coats  and 
ruffles,  none  of  the  dash  and  freedom  with  which  "  the  road  " 
has  been  time  out  of  mind  invested.  The  cold  wet  shelter- 
less midnight  streets  of  London  ;  the  foul  and  frouzy  dens, 
Wjiere  vice  is  closely  packed  and  lacks  the  room  to  turn ; 


PREFACE.  v 

the  haunts  of  hunger  and  disease  ;  the  shabby  rags  that 
scarcely  hold  together  ;  where  are  the  attractions  of  these 
things  ? 

There  are  people,  however,  of  so  refined  and  delicate  a 
nature,  that  they  can  not  bear  the  contemplation  of  such 
horrors.  Not  that  they  turn  instinctively  from  crime  ;  but 
that  criminal  characters,  to  suit  them,  must  be,  like  their 
meat,  in  delicate  disguise.  A  Massaroni  in  green  velvet  is 
an  enchanting  creature  ;  but  a  Sikes  in  fustian  is  insupport- 
able. A  Mrs.  Massaroni,  being  a  lady  in  short  petticoats 
and  a  fancy  dress,  is  a  thing  to  imitate  in  tableaux  and  have 
in  lithograph  on  pretty  songs  ;  but  a  Nancy,  being  a  creature 
in  a  cotton  gown  and  cheap  shawl,  is  not  to  be  thought  of. 
It  is  wonderful  how  virtue  turns  from  dirty  stockings  ;  and 
how  vice,  married  to  ribbons  and  a  little  gay  attire,  changes 
her  name,  as  wedded  ladies  do,  and  becomes  romance. 

But  as  the  stern  truth,  even  the  dress  of  this  (in  novels) 
much  exalted  race,  was  a  part  of  the  purpose  of  this  book, 
I  did  not,  for  these  readers,  abate  one  hole  in  the  Dodger's 
coat,  or  one  scrap  of  curl-paper  in  Nancy's  disheveled  hair. 
I  had  no  faith  in  the  delicacy  which  could  not  bear  to  look 
upon  them.  I  had  no  desire  to  make  proselytes  among  such 
people.  I  had  no  respect  for  their  opinion,  good  or  bad  ; 
did  not  covet  their  approval  ;  and  did  not  write  for  their 
amusement. 

It  has  been  observed  of  Nancy  that  her  devotion  to  the 
brutal  house-breaker  does  not  seem  natural.  And  it  has 
been  objected  to  Sikes  in  the  same  breath — with  some  incon- 
sistency, as  I  venture  to  think — that  he  is  surely  overdrawn, 
because  in  him  there  would  appear  to  be  none  of  those 
redeeming  traits  which  are  objected  to  as  unnatural  in  his 
mistress.  Of  the  latter  objection  I  will  merely  remark,  that 
I  fear  there  are  in  the  world  some  insensible  and  callous 
natures,  that  do  become  utterly  and  incurably  bad.  Whether 
this  be  so  or  not,  of  one  thing  I  am  certain  :  that  there  are 
such  men  as  Sikes,  who,  being  closely  followed  through  the 


vi  PREFACE. 

same  space  of  time  and  through  the  same  current  of  circum- 
stances, would  not  give,  by  the  action  of  a  moment,  the 
faintest  indication  of  a  better  nature.  Whether  every  gen- 
tler human  feeling  is  dead  within  such  bosoms,  or  the  proper 
chord  to  strike  has  rusted  and  is  hard  to  find,  I  do  not  pre- 
tend to  know  ,  but  that  the  fact  is  as  I  state  it,  I   am   sure. 

It  is  useless  to  discuss  whether  the  conduct  and  character 
of  the  girl  seems  natural  or  unnatural,  probable  or  improb- 
able, right  or  wrong.  It  is  true.  Every  man  who  has 
watched  these  melancholy  shades  of  life,  must  know  it  to  be 
so.  From  the  first  introduction  of  that  poor  wretch,  to  her 
laying  her  blood-stained  head  upon  the  robber's  breast,  there 
is  not  a  word  exaggerated  or  over-wrought.  It  is  emphat- 
ically God's  truth,  for  it  is  the  truth  He  leaves  in  such 
depraved  and  miserable  breasts;  the  hope  yet  lingering 
there  ;  the  last  fair  drop  of  water  at  the  bottom  of  the  weed- 
choked  well.  It  involves  the  best  and  worst  shades  of  our 
nature  ;  much  of  its  ugliest  hues,  and  something  of  its  most 
beautiful  ;  it  is  a  contradiction,  an  anomaly,  an  apparent 
impossibility  ;  but  it  is  a  truth.  I  am  glad  to  have  had  it 
doubted,  for  in  that  circumstance  I  should  find  a  sufficient 
assurance  (if  I  wanted  any)  that  it  needed  to  be  told. 

In  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty,  it  was 
publicly  declared  in  London  by  an  amazing  alderman,  that 
Jacob's  Island  did  not.  exist,  and  never  had  existed.  Jacob's 
Island  continues  to  exist  (like  an  ill-bred  place  as  it  is)  in 
the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty-seven,  though 
improved  and  much  changed. 


CONTENTS 


OLIVER  TWIST. 

PAGE. 

Chapter  I.     Treats  of  the  place  where  Oliver  Twist  was  born,  and  of 

the  circumstances  attending  his  birth, 7 

Chapter  II.     Treats  of  Oliver  Twist's  growth,  education,  and  board,       10 

Chapter  III.     Relates  how  Oliver  Twist  was  very  near  getting  a  place, 

which  would  not  have  been  a  sinecure, 20 

Chapter  IV.     Oliver,  being  offered  another  place,  makes  his  first  entry 

into  public  life, 28 

Chapter  V.  Oliver  mingles  with  new  associates.  Going  to  a  funeral 
for  the  first  time,  he  forms  an  unfavorable  notion  of  his  master's 
business, 35 

Chapter  VI.     Oliver,  being  goaded  by  the  taunts  of  Noah,  rouses  into 

action,  and  rather  astonishes  him, 45 

Chapter  VII.     Oliver  continues  refractory, 50 

Chapter  VIII.     Oliver  walks  to  London.     He  encounters  on  the  road 

a  strange  sort  of  young  gentleman, 56 

Chapter  IX.     Containing  further  particulars  concerning  the  pleasant 

old  gentleman,  and  his  hopeful  pupils, 64 

Chapter  X.  Oliver  becomes  better  acquainted  with  the  characters  of 
his  new  associates  ;  and  purchases  experience  at  a  high  price.  Being 
a  short,  but  very  important  chapter,  in  this  history,  ....       70 

Chapter  XI.     Treats  of  Mr.  Fang,  the  police  magistrate  ;  and  furnishes 

a  slight  specimen  of  his  mode  of  administering  justice,      .         .         .       75 

Chapter  XII.  In  which  Oliver  is  taken  better  care  of  than  he  ever  was 
before,  and  in  which  the  narrative  reverts  to  the  merry  old  gentleman 
and  his  youthful  friends, .         .       82 

Chapter  XIII.  Some  new  acquaintances  are  introduced  to  the  intelli- 
gent reader,  connected  with  whom,  various  pleasant  matters  are 
related,  appertaining  to  this  history, 91 

Chapter  XIV.  Comprising  further  particulars  of  Oliver's  stay  at  Mr. 
Brownlow's,  with  the  remarkable  prediction  which  one  Mr.  Grimwig 
uttered  concerning  him,  when  he  went  out  on  an  errand,  ...       99 

Chapter  XV.     Showing  how  very  fond  of  Oliver  Twist,  the  merry  old 

Jew  and  Miss  Nancy  were, 109 

Chapter  XVI.     Relates  what  became  of  Oliver  Twist,  after  he  had 

been  claimed  by  Nancy, 115 

Chapter  XVII.     Oliver's    destiny  continuing  unpropitious,  brings    a 

great  man  to  London  to  injure  his  reputation,  .....    124 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGB. 

Chapter  XVIII.     How  Oliver  passed  his  time  in  the  improving  society 

of  his  reputable  friends, 133 

Chapter  XIX.     In  which  a  notable  plan  is  discussed  and  determined 

on, 140 

Chapter  XX.     Wherein  Oliver  is  delivered  over  to  Mr.  William  Sikes,     149 

Chapter  XXI.     The  expedition, 157 

Chapter  XXII.     The  burglary,      .  162 

Chapter  XXIII.  Which  contains  the  substance  of  a  pleasant  conver- 
sation between  Mr.  Bumble  and  a  lady  ;  and  shows  that  even  a 
beadle  may  be  susceptible  on  some  points, 169 

Chapter  XXIV.     Treats  of  a  very  poor  subject.     But  is  a  short  one, 

and  may  be  found  of  importance  in  this  history,         .         .         .         .176 

Chapter  XXV.  Wherein  this  history  reverts  to  Mr.  Fagin  and  com- 
pany,    181 

Chapter  XXVI.  In  which  a  mysterious  character  appears  upon  the 
scene  ;  and  many  things,  inseparable  from  this  history,  are  done  and 
performed,  .  187 

Chapter  XXVII.     Atones  for  the  unpoliteness  of  a  former  chapter ; 

which  deserted  a  lady  most  unceremoniously, 199 

Chapter  XXVIII.  Looks  after  Oliver,  and  proceeds  with  his  adven- 
tures,   205 

Chapter  XXIX.     Has  an  introductory  account  of  the  inmates  of  the 

house,  to  which  Oliver  resorted, 214 

Chapter  XXX.     Relates  what  Oliver's  new  visitors  thought  of  him.     .    218 

Chapter  XXXI.     Involves  a  critical  position, 224 

Chapter  XXXII.     Of  the  happy  life  Oliver  began  to  lead  with  his  kind 

friends, 234 

Chapter  XXXIII.     Wherein  the  happiness  of  Oliver  and  his  friends 

experiences  a  sudden  check, 24a 

Chapter  XXXIV.  Contains  some  introductory  particulars  relative  to 
a  young  gentleman  who  now  arrives  upon  the  scene ;  and  a  new 
adventure  which  happened  to  Oliver,  .         .         .         .         .         .     251 

Chapter  XXXV.  Containing  the  unsatisfactory  result  of  Oliver's  adven- 
ture ;  and  a  conversation  of  some  importance  between  Harry  Maylie 
and  Rose,     .  260 

Chapter  XXXVI.  Is  a  very  short  one,  and  may  appear  of  no  great 
importance  in  its  place,  but  it  should  be  read  notwithstanding,  as  a 
sequel  to  the  last,  and  a  key  to  one  that  will  follow  when  its  time 
arrives, 267 

Chapter  XXXVII.     In  which  the  reader  may  perceive  a  contrast,  not 

uncommon  in  matrimonial  cases, 270 

Chapter  XXXVIII.     Containing  an  account  of  what  passed  between 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bumble,  and  Mr.  Monks,  at  their  nocturnal  interview,    276 


CONTENTS.  ix 

PAGE. 

Chapter  XXXIX.  Introduces  some  respectable  characters,  with  whom 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted,  and  shows  how  Monks  and  the  Jew 

laid  their  worthy  heads  together, 284 

Chapter  XL.     A  strange   interview,   which  is  a  sequel  to    the    last 

chapter, 303 

Chapter  XLI.  Containing  fresh  discoveries,  and  showing  that  sur- 
prises, like  misfortunes,  seldom  come  alone, 309 

Chapter  XLII.     An  old  acquaintance  of  Oliver's,  exhibiting  decided 

marks  of  genius,  becomes  a  public  character  in  the  metropolis,         .     318 
Chapter  XLIII.     Wherein  is  shown  how  the  Artful  Dodger  got  into 

trouble, 328 

Chapter  XLIV.     The  time  arrives  for  Nancy  to  redeem  her  pledge  to 

Rose  Maylie.     She  fails, 338 

Chapter  XLV.     Noah   Claypole  is  employed  by   Fagin  on  a  secret 

mission, 344 

Chapter  XLVI.     The  appointment  kept, 348 

Chapter  XLVII.     Fatal  consequences, 357 

Chapter  XLVI  1 1.     The  flight  of  Sikes, 363 

Chapter  XLIX.     Monks  and  Mr.   Brownlow  at  length  meet.     Their 

conversation,  and  the  intelligence  that  interrupts  it,  .         .        .        .     372 

Chapter  L.    The  pursuit  and  escape, 381 

Chapter  LI.  Affording  an  explanation  of  more  mysteries  than  one, 
and  comprehending  a  proposal  of  marriage  with  no  word  of  settle- 
ment or  pin-money, 392 

Chapter  LII.     Fagan's  last  night  alive, 404 

Chapter  LIII.    And  last 412 

PICTURES  FROM  ITALY. 


The  reader's  passport,        . I 

Going  through  France, 3 

Lyons,  the  Rhone,  and  the  Goblin  of  Avignon,         .....  10 
Avignon  to  Genoa;     ...........19 

Genoa  and  its  neighborhood, 23 

To  Parma,  Modena,  and  Bologna, S2 

Through  Bologna  and  Ferrara, 61 

An  Italian  dream, 66 

By  Verona,  Mantua,   and  Milan,  across  the  Pass  of  the  Symplon  into 

Switzerland,                 . 74 

To  Rome  by  Pisa  and  Siena, 89 

Rome, 101 

A  rapid  diorama, 144 


x  CONTENTS. 

AMERICAN  NOTES. 

PAGE. 

Chapter  I.     Going  away, 171 

Chapter  II.     The  passage  out, 178 

Chapter  III.     Boston, 192 

Chapter  IV.     An  American  railroad.     Lowell  and  its  factory  system,     228 
Chapter  V.     Worcester.      The  Connecticut  River.     Hartford.     New 

Haven.     To  New  York, ,  236 

Chapter  VI.     New  York, 245 

Chapter  VII.     Philadelphia,  and  its  solitary  prison,    ....    261 
Chapter  VIII.     Washington.     The  Legislature.     And  the  President's 

house, 276 

Chapter  IX.  A  night  steamer  on  the  Potomac  River.  Virginia  road, 
and  a  black  driver.     Richmond.     Baltimore.     The  Harrisburg  mail, 

and  a  glimpse  of  the  city.     A  canal-boat, 291 

Chapter  X.  Some  further  account  of  the  canal-boat,  its  domestic 
economy,  and  its  passengers.  Journey  to  Pittsburg  across  the  Alle- 
ghany Mountains.     Pittsburg, 308 

Chapter  XI.     From  Pittsburg  to  Cincinnati  in.  a  Western  steamboat. 

Cincinnati, 218 

Chapter  XII.     From  Cincinnati  to  Louisville    in  another    Western 

steamboat ;  and  from  Louisville  to  St.  Louis  in  another.     St.  Louis.      326 
Chapter  XIII.     A  jaunt  to  the  Looking-Glass  Prairie  and  back,  .        .    337 
Chapter  XIV.     Return  to  Cincinnati.     A  stage-coach  ride  from  that 
city  to  Columbus,  and  thence  to  Sandusky.     So,  by  Lake  Erie,  to 

the  Falls  of  Niagara, 345 

Chapter  XV.  In  Canada  ;  Toronto ;  Kingston  ;  Montreal ;  Quebec ; 
St.  John's.  In  the  United  States  again  ;  Lebanon ;  the  Shaker  vil- 
lage ;  West  Point, 361 

Chapter  XVL     The  passage  home, 378 

Chapter  XVII.     Slavery, 386 

Chapter  XVIII.    Concluding  remarks, 401 


OLIVER  TWIST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TREATS   OF    THE   PLACE    WHERE    OLIVER    TWIST    WAS   BORN, 
AND   OF   THE   CIRCUMSTANCES   ATTENDING    HIS   BIRTH. 

Among  other  public  buildings  in  a  certain  town,  which 
for  many  reasons  it  will  be  prudent  to  refrain  from  men- 
tioning, and  to  which  I  will  assign  no  fictitious  name,  there  is 
one  anciently  common  to  most  towns,  great  or  small :  to  wit, 
a  work-house  ;  and  in  this  work-house  was  born — on  a  day 
and  date  which  I  need  not  trouble  myself  to  repeat,  inas- 
much as  it  can  be  of  no  possible  consequence  to  the  reader, 
in  this  stage  of  the  business  at  all  events — the  item  of  mor- 
tality whose  name  is  prefixed  to  the  head  of  this  chapter. 

For  a  long  time  after  it  was  ushered  into  this  world  of 
sorrow  and  trouble,  by  the  parish  surgeon,  it  remained  a 
matter  of  considerable  doubt  whether  the  child  would  sur- 
vive to  bear  any  name  at  all ;  in  which  case  it  is  somewhat 
more  than  probable  that  these  memoirs  would  never  have  ap- 
peared ;  or,  if  they  had,  that  being  comprised  within  a  couple 
of  pages,  they  would  have  possessed  the  inestimable  merit 
of  being  the  most  concise  and  faithful  specimen  of  biography 
extant  in  the  literature  of  any  age  or  country. 

Although  I  am  not  disposed  to  maintain  that  the  being 
born  in  a  work-house,  is  in  itself  the  most  fortunate  and  en- 
viable circumstance  that  can  possibly  befall  a  human  being, 
I  do  mean  to  say  that  in  this  particular  instance,  it  was  the 
best  thing  for  Oliver  Twist  that  could  by  possibility  have  oc- 
curred. The  fact  is,  that  there  was  considerable  difficulty 
in  inducing  Oliver  to  take  upon  himself  the  office  of  respi- 
ration,— a  troublesome  practice,  but  one  which  custom  has 
rendered  necessary  to  our  easy  existence  ;  and  for  some 
time  he  lay  gasping  on  a  little  flock  mattress,  rather  unequally 
poised  between  this  world  and  the  next  :  the  balance  being 


OLIVER  TWIST.      . 

decidedly  in  favor  of  the  latter.  Now,  if,  during  this 
brief  period,  Oliver  had  been  surrounded  by  careful  grand- 
mothers, anxious  aunts,  experienced  nurses,  and  doctors  of 
profound  wisdom,  he  would  most  inevitably  and  indubitably 
have  been  killed  in  no  time.  There  being  nobody  by,  how- 
ever, but  a  pauper  old  woman,  who  was  rendered  rather 
misty  by  an  unwonted  allowance  of  beer  ;  and  a  parish  sur- 
geon who,did  such  matters  by  contract ;  Oliver  and  Nature 
fought  out  the  point  between  them.  The  result  was,  that, 
after  a  few  struggles,  Oliver  breathed,  sneezed,  and  proceeded 
to  advertise  to  the  inmates  of  the  work-house  the  fact  of  a 
new  burden  having  been  imposed  upon  the  parish,  by  set- 
ting up  as  loud  a  cry  as  could  reasonably  have  been  expected 
from  a  male  infant  who  had  not  been  possessed  of  that  very 
useful  appendage,  a  voice,  for  a  much  longer  space  of  time 
than  three  minutes  and  a  quarter. 

As  Oliver  gave  this  first  proof  of  the  free  and  proper 
action  of  his  lungs,  the  patchwork  coverlet  which  was  care- 
lessly flung  over  the  iron  bedstead,  rustled  ;  the  pale  face  of 
a  young  woman  was  raised  feebly  from  the  pillow  ;  and  a 
faint  voice  imperfectly  articulated  the  words,  "  Lot  me  see 
the  child,  and  die." 

The  surgeon  had  been  sitting  with  his  face  turned  toward 
the  fire  :  giving  the  palms  of  his  hands  a  warm  and  a  rub 
alternately.  As  the  young  woman  spoke,  he  rose,  and  ad- 
vancing to  the  bed's  head,  said,  with  more  kindness  than 
might  have  been  expected  of  him  : 

Oh,  you  must  not  talk  about  dying  yet." 

"  Lor  bless  her  dear  heart,  no  !  "  interposed  the  nurse, 
hastily  depositing  in  her  pocket  a  green  glass  bottle,  the  con- 
tents of  which  she  had  been  tasting  in  a  corner  with  evident 
satisfaction.  "  Lor  bless  her  dear  heart,  when  she  has  lived 
as  long  as  I  have,  sir,  and  had  thirteen  children  of  her  own, 
and  all  on  'em  dead  except  two,  and  them  in  the  wurkus  with 
me,  she'll  know  better  than  to  take  on  in  that  way;  bless  her 
dear  heart  !  Think  what  it  is  to  be  a  mother,  there's  a  dear 
young  lamb,  do." 

Apparently  this  consolatory  perspective  of  a  mother's 
prospects  failed  in  producing  its  due  effect.  The  patient 
shook  her  head,  and  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  the  child. 

The  surgeon  deposited  it  in  her  arms.  She  imprinted  her 
cold  white  lips  passionately  on  its  forehead ;  passed  her 
hands  over  her  face  ;  gazed  wildly  round  ;  shuddered  ;  fell 


OLIVER  TWIST.  9 

back — and  died.  They  chafed  her  breast,  hands,  and  tem- 
ples ;  but  the  blood  had  stopped  forever.  They  talked  of 
hope  and  comfort.     They  had  been  strangers  too  long. 

It's  all  over,  Mrs.  Thingummy  ! "   said  the  surgeon  at 
last. 

"  Ah,  poor  dear,  so  it  is  !  "  said  the  nurse,  picking  up  the 
cork  of  the  green  bottle,  which  had  fallen  out  on  the  pillow, 
as  she  stooped  to  take  up  the  child.     "  Poor  dear  !  " 

"  You  needn't  mind  sending  up  to  me,  if  the  child  cries, 
nurse,"  said  the  surgeon,  putting  on  his  gloves  with  great 
deliberation.  "  It's  very  likely  it  will  be  troublesome.  Give 
it  a  little  gruel  if  it  is."  He  put  on  his  hat,  and  pausing  by 
the  bedside  on  his  way  to  the  door,  added,  "  She  was  a  good- 
looking  girl,  too  ;  where  did  she  come  from  ?  " 

"  She  was  brought  here  last  night,"  replied  the  old  woman, 
"  by  the  overseer's  order.  She  was  found  lying  in  the  street. 
She  had  walked  some  distance,  for  her  shoes  were  worn  to 
pieces  ;  but  where  she  came  from,  or  where  she  was  going  to, 
nobody  knows." 

The  surgeon  leaned  over  the  body,  and  raised  the  left 
hand.  "  The  old  story,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  :  "  no 
wedding-ring,  I  see.     Ah  !  Good-night  !  " 

The  medical  gentleman  walked  away  to  dinner  ;  and  the 
nurse,  having  once  more  applied  herself  to  the  green  bottle, 
sat  down  on  a  low  chair  before  the  fire,  and  proceeded  to 
dress  the  infant. 

What  an  excellent  example  of  the  power  of  dress,  young 
Oliver  Twist  was  !  Wrapped  in  the  blanket  which  had  hither- 
to formed  his  only  covering,  he  might  have  been  the  child  of 
a  nobleman  or  a  beggar  ;  it  would  have  been  hard  for  the 
haughtiest  stranger  to  have  assigned  him  his  proper  station 
in  society.  But  now  that  he  was  enveloped  in  the  old  calico 
robes  which  had  grown  yellow  in  the  same  service,  he  was 
badged  and  ticketed,  and  fell  into  his  place  at  once — a  par- 
ish child — the  orphan  of  a  work-house — the  humble,  half- 
starved  drudge — to  be  cuffed  and  buffeted  through  the  world 
— despised  by  all,  and  pitied  by  none. 

Oliver  cried  lustily.  If  he  could  have  known  that  he  was 
an  orphan,  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  church -wardens  and 
overseers,  perhaps  he  would  have  cried  the  louder. 


xo  OLIVER  TWIST. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TREATS     OF    OLIVER     TWIST'S     GROWTH,     EDUCATION     AND 

BOARD. 

For  the  next  eight  or  ten  months,  Oliver  was  the  victim 
of  a  systematic  course  of  treachery  and  deception.  He  was 
brought  up  by  hand.  The  hungry  and  destitute  situation  of 
the  infant  orphan  was  duly  reported  by  the  work-house  au- 
thorities to  the  parish  authorities.  The  parish  authorities 
inquired  with  dignity  of  the  work-house  authorities  whether 
there  was  no  female  then  domiciled  "  in  the  house  "  who  was 
in  a  situation  to  impart  to  Oliver  Twist  the  consolation  and 
nourishment  of  which  he  stood  in  need.  The  work-house 
authorities  replied  with  humility,  that  there  was  not.  Upon 
this,  the  parish  authorities  magnanimously  and  humanely  re- 
solved that  Oliver  should  be  "  farmed,"  or,  in  other  words, 
that  he  should  be  dispatched  to  a  branch  work-house  some 
three  miles  off,  where  twenty  or  thirty  other  juvenile  offen- 
ders against  the  poor-laws,  rolled  about  the  floor  all  day, 
without  the  inconvenience  of  too  much  food  or  too  much 
clothing,  under  the  parental  superintendence  of  an  elderly 
female,  who  received  the  culprits  at  and  for  the  considera- 
tion of  sevenpence-half-penny  per  small  head  per  week. 
Sevenpence-half-penny's  worth  per  week  is  a  good  round 
diet  for  a  child  ;  a  great  deal  may  be  got  for  seven- 
pence-half-penny,  quite  enough  to  overload  its  stomach,  and 
make  it  uncomfortable.  The  elderly  female  was  a  woman  of 
wisdom  and  experience  ;  she  knew  what  was  good  for  chil- 
dren ;  and  she  had  a  very  accurate  perception  of  what  was  good 
for  herself.  So  she  appropriated  the  greater  part  of  the 
weekly  stipend  to  her  own  use,  and  consigned  the  rising 
parochial  generation  to  even  a  shorter  allowance  than  was 
originally  provided  for  them.  Thereby  finding  in  the  lowest 
depth  a  deeper  still ;  and  proving  herself  a  very  great  ex- 
perimental philosopher. 

Every  body  knows  the  story  of  another  experimental  phil- 
osopher who  had  a  great  theory  about  a  horse  being  able  to 
live  without  eating,  and  who  demonstrated  it  so  well,  that  he 
got  his  own  horse  down  to  a  straw  a  day,  and  would  unques- 
tionably have  rendered  him  a  very  spirited  and  rampatioue 
animal  on  nothing  at  all,  if  he  had  not  died,  four-and-twenty 


OLIVER  TWIST.  n 

hours  before  he  was  to  have  had  his  first  comfortable  bait  of 
air.  Unfortunately  for  the  experimental  philosophy  of  the 
female  to  whose  protecting  care  Oliver  Twist  was  delivered 
over,  a  similar  result  usually  attended  the  operation  of  her 
system  ;  for  at  the  very  moment  when  a  child  had  contrived 
to  exist  upon  the  smallest  possible  portion  of  the  weakest  pos- 
sible food,  it  did  perversely  happen  in  eight  and  a  half  cases 
out  of  ten,  either  that  it  sickened  from  want  or  cold,  or  fell 
into  the  fire  from  neglect,  or  got  half-smothered  by  accident; 
in  any  one  of  which  cases,  the  miserable  little  being  was 
usually  summoned  into  another  world,  and  there  gathered  to 
the  fathers  it  had  never  known  in  this. 

Occasionally,  when  there  was  some  more  than  usually  in- 
teresting inquest  upon  a  parish  child,  who  had  been  over- 
looked in  turning  up  a  bedstead,  or  inadvertently  scalded  to 
death  when  there  happened  to  be  a  washing —  though  the 
latter  accident  was  very  scarce,  any  thing  approaching  to  a 
washing  being  of  rare  occurrence  in  the  farm — the  jury  would 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  ask  troublesome  questions,  or  the 
parishioners  would  rebelliously  affix-  their  signatures  to  a  re- 
monstrance. But  these  impertinences  were  speedily  checked 
by  the  evidence  of  the  surgeon,  and  the  testimony  of  the 
beadle  ;  the  former  of  whom  had  always  opened  the  body 
and  found  nothing  inside  (which  was  very  probable  indeed), 
and  the  latter  of  whom  invariably  swore  whatever  the  parish 
wanted  ;  which  was  very  self-devotional.  Besides,  the  board 
made  periodical  pilgrimages  to  the  farm,  and  always  sent  the 
beadle  the  day  before,  to  say  they  were  going.  The  children 
were  neat  and  clean  to  behold  when  they  went ;  and  what 
more  would  the  people  have  ! 

It  cannot  be  expected  that  this  system  of  farming  would 
produce  any  very  extraordinary  or  luxuriant  crop.  Oliver 
Twist's  ninth  birthday  found  him  a  pale,  thin  child,  some- 
what diminutive  in  stature,  and  decidedly  small  in  circum- 
ference. But  nature  or  inheritance  had  implanted  a  good 
sturdy  spirit  in  Oliver's  breast.  It  had  had  plenty  room  to 
expand,  thanks  to  the  spare  diet  of  the  establishment  ;  and 
perhaps  to  this  circumstance  may  be  attributed  his  having 
any  ninth  birthday  at  all.  Be  this  as  it  may,  however,  it  was 
his  ninth  birthday  ;  and  he  was  keeping  it  in  the  coal-cellar 
with  a  select  party  of  two  other  young  gentlemen,  who,  after 
participating  with  him  in  a  sound  thrashing,  had  been  locked 
up    for  atrociously    presuming    to  be  hungry,  when  Mrs. 


12  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Mann,  the  good  lady  of  the  house,  was  unexpectedly  startled 
by  the  apparation  of  Mr.  Bumble,  the  bea'dle,  striving  to  undo 
the  wicket  of  the  garden-gate. 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Bumble,  sir  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Mann,  thrusting  her  head  out  of  the  window  in 
well-affected  ecstasies  of  joy.  "(Susan,  take  Oliver  and  them 
two  brats  up  stairs  and  wash  'em  directly.)  My  heart  alive  ! 
Mr.  Bumble,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  sure-ly  !  " 

Now,  Mr.  Bumble  was  a  fat  man,  and  a  choleric  ;  so,  in- 
stead of  responding  to  this  open-hearted  salutation  in  a  kin- 
dred spirit,  he  gave  the  little  wicket  a  tremendous  shake,  and 
then  bestowed  upon  it  a  kick  which  could  have  emanated 
from  no  leg  but  a  beadle's. 

"  Lor,  only  think."  said  Mrs.  Mann,  running  out, — 
for  the  three  boys  had  been  removed  by  this  time, — "  only 
think  of  that  !  That  I  should  have  forgotten  that  the  gate 
was  bolted  on  the  inside,  on  account  of  them  dear  children  ! 
Walk  in,  sir ;  walk  in  pray,  Mr.  Bumble,  do,  sir." 

Although  this  invitation  was  accompanied  with  a  courtesy 
that  might  have  softened  the  heart  of  a  church- warden, 
it  by  no  means  mollified  the  beadle. 

"  Do  you  think  this  respectful  or  proper  conduct,  Mrs. 
Mann,"  inquired  Mr.  Bumble,  grasping  his  cane,  "  to  keep 
the  parish  officers  a-waiting  at  your  garden-gate,  when  they 
come  here  upon  porochial  business  connected  with  the  poro- 
chial  orphans  !  Are  you  aweer,  Mrs.  Mann,  that  you  are, 
as  I  may  say,  a  porochial  delegate,  and  a  stipendiary  ?" 

"I'm  sure,  Mr.  Bumble,  that  I  was  only  a-telling  one  or 
two  of  the  dear  children  as  is  so  fond  of  you,  that  it  was  you 
a-coming,"  replied  Mrs.  Mann,  with  great  humility. 

Mr.  Bumble  had  a  great  idea  of  his  oratorical  powers  and 
his  importance.  He  had  displayed  the  one,  and  vindicated 
the  other.     He  relaxed. 

"  Well,  well,  Mrs.  Mann,"  he  replied,  in  a  calmer  tone  ; 
"it  may  be  as  you  say  ;  it  may  be.  Lead  the  way  in,  Mrs. 
Mann,  for  I  come  on  business,  and  have  something  to  say." 

Mrs.  Mann  ushered  the  beadle  into  a  small  parlor  with  a 
brick  floor  :  placed  a  seat  for  him  ;  and  officiously  deposi- 
ted his  cocked  hat  and  cane  on  the  table  before  him.  Mr.  Bum- 
wiped  from  his  forehead  the  perspiration  which  his  walk  had 
engendered,  glanced  complacently  at  the  cocked  hat,  and 
smiled.  Yes,  he  smiled.  Beadles  are  but  men  :  and  Mr. 
Bumble  smiled. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  13 

"  Now  don't  you  be  offended  at  what  I'm  a-going  to  say," 
observed  Mrs.  Mann,  with  a  captivating  sweetness.  "  You've 
had  a  long  walk,  you  know,  or  I  wouldn't  mention  it.  Now 
will  you  take  a  little  drop  of  something,  Mr.  Bumble." 

"  Not  a  drop.  Not  a  drop."  said  Mr.  Bumble,  waving  his 
right  hand  in  a  dignified,  but  placid  manner. 

"  I  think  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Mann,  who  had  noticed  the 
tone  of  the  refusal,  and  the  gesture  that  had  accompanied  it. 
"  Just  a  leetle  drop,  with  a  little  cold  water,  and  a  lump  of 
sugar." 

Mr.  Bumble  coughed. 

"  Now,  just  a  leetle  drop,"  said  Mrs.  Mann,  persuasively. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  inquired  the  beadle. 

"  Why,  it's  what  I'm  obliged  to  keep  a  little  of  in  the  house, 
to  put  into  the  blessed  infants'  Daffy,  when  they  ain't  well, 
Mr.  Bumble,"  replied  Mrs.  Mann,  as  she  opened  a  corner 
cupboard  and  took  down  a  bottle  and  glass.  "  It's  gin.  I'll 
not  deceive  you,  Mr  B.     It's  gin." 

"  Do  you  give  the  children  Daffy,  Mrs.  Mann  ? "  inquired 
Bumble,  following  with  his  eyes  the  interesting  process  of 
mixing. 

"  Ah,  bless  'em,  that  I  do,  dear  as  it  is,"  replied  the  nurse. 
"  I  couldn't  see  'em  suffer  before  my  very  eyes,  you  know, 
sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  approvingly  ;  "  no,  you  could 
not.  You  are  a  humane  woman,  Mrs.  Mann,"  (Here  she 
set  down  the  glass.)  "  I  shall  take  a  early  opportunity  of 
mentioning  it  to  the  board,  Mrs.  Mann,"  (He  drew  it  to- 
ward him.)  "  You  feel  as  a  mother,  Mrs.  Mann."  (He 
stirred  the  gin-and-water.)  "I — I  drink  your  health  with 
cheerfulness,  Mrs.  Mann  ; "  and  he  swallowed  half  of  it. 

"  And  now  about  business,"  said  the  beadle,  taking  out  a 
leathern  pocket-book.  "  The  child  that  was  half-baptized 
Oliver  Twist,  is  nine  year  old  to-day." 

"  Bless  him  !  "  interposed  Mrs.  Mann,  inflaming  her  left 
eye  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

"  And  notwithstanding  a  offered  reward  of  ten  pound, 
which  was  afterward  increased  to  twenty  pound.  Notwith- 
standing the  most  superlative,  and,  I  may  say,  supernat'ral 
exertions  on  the  part  of  this  parish,"  said  Bumble,  "  we  have 
never  been  able  to  discover  who  is  his  father,  or  what  was  his 
mother's  settlement,  name,  or  con — dition." 

Mrs.  Mann  raised  her  hands  in  astonishment  ;  but  added, 


14  OLIVER  TWIST. 

after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  How  comes  he  to  have  any 
name  at  all,  then  ?" 

The  beadle  drew  himself  up  with  great  pride,  and  said,  "I 
inwented  it." 

"  You,  Mr.  Bumble  !" 

"  I,  Mrs,  Mann.  We  name  our  fondlings  in  alphabetical 
order.  The  last  was  a  S — Swubble,  I  named  him.  This 
was  a  T — Twist,  I  named  him.  The  next  one  as  comes  will 
be  Unwin,  and  the  next  Vilkins.  I  have  got  names  ready 
made  to  the  end  of  the  alphabet,  and  all  the  way  through  it 
again,  when  we  come  to  Z." 

"  Why  you  are  quite  a  literary  character,  sir  !"  said  Mrs. 
Mann. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  beadle,  evidently  gratified  with  the 
compliment  ;  "  perhaps  I  may  be.  Perhaps  I  may  be,  Mrs. 
Mann."  He  finished  the  gin-and-water,  and  added,  "Oliver 
being  now  too  old  to  remain  here,  the  board  have  determined 
to  have  him  back  into  the  house.  I  have  come  out  myself 
to  take  him  there.     So  let  me  see  him  at  once." 

"  I'll  fetch  him  directly,"  said  Mrs.  Mann,  leaving  the 
room  for  that  purpose.  Oliver  having  had  by  this  time  as 
much  of  the  outer  coat  of  dirt  which  incrusted  his  face  and 
hands,  removed,  as  could  be  scrubbed  off  in  one  washing, 
was  led  into  the  room  by  his  benevolent  protectress. 

"  Make  a  bow  to  the  gentleman,  Oliver,"  said  Mrs.  Mann. 

Oliver  made  a  bow,  which  was  divided  between  the  beadle 
on  the  chair,  and  the  cocked  hat  on  the  table. 

"  Will  you  go  along  with  me  Oliver  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bumble, 
in  a  majestic  voice. 

Oliver  was  about  to  say  that  he  would  go  along  with  any 
body  with  great  readiness,  when  glancing  upward,  he  caught 
sight  ot  Mrs.  Mann,  who  had  got  behind  the  beadle's  chair 
and  was  shaking  her  fist  at  him  with  a  furious  countenance. 
He  took  the  hint  at  once,  for  the  fist  had  been  too  often 
impressed  upon  his  body  not  to  be  deeply  impressed  upon 
his  recollection. 

"  Will  she  go  with  me  ?"  inquired  poor  Oliver. 

"  No,  she  can't,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble.  "  But  she'll  come 
jind  see  you  sometimes." 

This  was  no  very  great  consolation  to  the  child  Young  as 
he  was,  however,  he  had  sense  enough  to  make  a  feint  of 
feeling  great  regret  at  going  away.  It  was  no  very  difficult 
matter  for  the  boy  to  call  tears  into  his  eyes.      Hunger  and 


OLIVER  TWIST.  15 

recent  ill-usage  are  great  assistants  if  you  want  to  cry  ;  and 
Oliver  cried  very  naturally  indeed.  Mrs.  Mann  gave  him  a 
thousand  embraces,  and,  what  Oliver  wanted  a  great  deal 
more,  a  piece  of  bread-and-butter,  lest  he  should  seem  too 
hungry  when  he  got  to  the  work-house.  With  the  slice  of 
bread  in  his  hand,  and  the  little  brown  cloth  parish  cap-on 
his  head,  Oliver  was  then  led  away  by  Mr.  Bumble  from  the 
wretched  home  where  one  kind  word  or  look  had  never  light- 
ed the  gloom  of  his  infant  years.  And  yet  he  burst  into  an 
agony  of  childish  grief,  as  the  cottage-gate  closed  after  him. 
Wretched  as  were  the  little  companions  in  misery  he  was  leav- 
ing behind,  they  were  the  only  friends  he  had  ever  known  ; 
and  a  sense  of  his  loneliness  in  the  great  wide  world,  sank 
into  the  child's  heart  for  the  first  time. 

Mr.  Bumble  walked  on  with  great  strides  ;  little  Oliver, 
firmly  grasping  his  gold-laced  cuff,  trotted  beside  him,  in- 
quiring at  the  end  of  every  quarter  of  a  mile  whether  they 
were  "  nearly  there."  To  these  interrogations  Mr.  Bumble 
returned  very  brief  and  snappish  replies  ;  for  the  temporary 
blandness  which  gin-and-water  awakens  in  some  bosoms  and 
by  this  time  evaporated;     and  he  was  once  again   a  beadle. 

Oliver  had  not  been  within  the  walls  of  the  workhouse  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  had  scarcely  completed  the  demoli- 
tion of  a  second  slice  of  bread,  when  Mr.  Bumble,  who  had 
handed  him  over  to  the  care  of  an  old  woman,  returned;  and 
telling  him  it  was  a  board  night,  informed  him  that  the  board 
had  said  he  was  to  appear  forthwith. 

Not  having  a  very  clearly  defined  notion  of  what  a  live 
board  was,  Oliver  was  rather  astounded  by  this  intelligence, 
and  was  not  quite  certain  whether  he  ought  to  laugh  or  cry. 
He  had  no  time  to  think  about  the  matter  however  ; 
for  Mr.  Bumble  gave  him  a  tap  on  the  head  with  his  cane,  to 
wake  him  up  :  and  another  on  the  back  to  make  him  lively  : 
and  bidding  him  follow,  conducted  him  into  a  large  white- 
washed room,  where  eight  or  ten  /at  gentlemen  were  sitting 
round  a  table.  At  the  top  of  the  table,  seated  in  an  arm-chair 
rather  higher  than  the  rest,  was  a  particularly  fat  gentleman 
with  a  very  round  red  face. 

"Bow  to  the  board,"  said  Bumble.  Oliver  brushed  away 
two  or  three  tears  that  were  lingering  in  his  eyes';  and  see- 
ing no  board  but  the  table,  fortunately  bowed  to  that. 

•  What's  your  name,  boy  ?"  said  the  gentleman  in  the 
high  chair. 


i6  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Oliver  was  frightened  at  the  sight  of  so  many  gentlemen, 
which  made  him  tremble  ;  and  the  beadle  gave  him  another 
tap  behind,  which  made  him  cry.  These  two  causes  made 
him  answer  in  a  very  low  and  hesitating  voice  ;  whereupon 
a  gentleman  in  a  white  waistcoat  said  he  was  a  fool.  Which 
was  a  capital  way  of  raising  his  spirits,  and  putting  him  quite 
at  his  ease. 

"  Boy,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  high  chair,  "  listen  to 
me.     You  know  you're  an  orphan,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  What's  that,  sir  ?"  inquired  poor  Oliver. 

"The  boy  is  a  fool — I  thought  he  was,"  said  the  gentle- 
man in  the  white  waistcoat. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  gentleman  who  had  spoken  first  "  You 
know  you've  got  no  father  or  mother,  and  that  you  were 
brought  up  by  the  parish,  don't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  weeping  bitterly. 

"  What  are  you  crying  for  ?"  inquired  the  gentleman  in 
the  white  waistcoat.  And  to  be  sure  it  was  very  extraordi- 
nary.   What  could  the  boy  be  crying  for  ? 

"  I  hope  you  say  your  prayers  every  night,"  said  another 
gentleman,  in  a  gruff  voice  ;  "  and  pray  for  the  people  who 
feed  and  take  care  of  you — like  a  Christian." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  stammered  the  boy.  The  gentleman  who  spoke 
last  was  unconsciously  right.  It  would  have  been  very  like 
a  Christian,  and  a  marvelously  good  Christian,  too,  if  Oliver 
had  prayed  for  the  people  who  fed  and  took  care  of  him. 
But  he  hadn't  because  nobody  had  taught  him. 

"  Well  !  You  have  come  here  to  be  educated,  and  taught 
a  useful  trade,"  said  the  red-faced  gentleman  in  the  high 
chair. 

"  So  you'll  begin  to  pick  oakum  to-morrow  morning  at  six 
o'clock,"  added  the  surly  one  in  the  white  waistcoat. 

For  the  combination  of  both  these  blessings  in  the  one 
simple  process  of  picking  oakum  Oliver  bowed  low  by  the 
direction  of  the  beadle,  and  was  then  hurried  away  to  a 
large  ward  ;  where  on  a  rt>ugh,  hard  bed,  he  sobbed  himself 
to  sleep.  What  a  noble  illustration  of  the  tender  laws  of 
England  !     They  let  the  paupers  go  to  sleep  ! 

Poor  Oliver  !  He  little  thought,  as  he  lay  sleeping  in 
happy  unconsciousness  of  all  around  him,  that  the  board 
had  that  very  day  arrived  at  a  decision  which  would  exer- 
cise the  most  material  influence  over  all  his  future  fortunes. 
But  they  had.   And  this  was  it  ; 


OLIVER  TWIST.  17 

The  members  of  this  board  were  very  sage,  deep,  philo- 
sophical men  ;  and  when  they  came  to  turn  their  attention 
to  the  workhouse,  they  found  out  at  once,  what  ordinary 
folks  would  never  have  discovered — that  poor  people  liked 
it !  It  was  a  regular  place  of  public  entertainment  for  the 
poorer  classes  ;  a  tavern  where  there  was  nothing  to  pay  ;  a 
public  breakfast,  dinner,  tea,  and  supper,  all  the  year  round  : 
a  brick  and  mortar  elysium,  where  it  was  all  play  and  no  work. 
"  Oho  !  "  said  the  board,  looking  very  knowing  ;  we  are  the 
fellows  to  set  this  to  rights  ;  we'll  stop  it  all,  in  no  time." 
So,  they  established  the  rule,  that  all  poor  people  should 
have  the  alternative  (for  they  would  compel  nobody,  not 
they),  of  being  starved  by  a  gradual  process  in  the  house, 
or  by  a  quick  one  out  of  it.  With  this  view,  they  contract- 
ed with  the  water-works  to  lay  on  an  unlimited  supply  of 
water ;  and  with  a  corn-factor  to  supply  periodically  small 
quantities  of  oatmeal ;  and  issued  three  meals  of  thin  gruel 
a  day,  with  an  onion  twice  a:week,  and  half  a  roll  on  Sun- 
days. They  made  a  great  many  other  wise  and  humane  reg- 
ulations, having  reference  to  the  ladies,  which  it  is  not  nec- 
essary to  repeat ;  kindly  undertook  to  divorce  poor  married 
people,  in  consequence  of  the  great  expense  of  a  suit  in 
Doctors'  Commons  ;  and,  instead  of  compelling  a  man  to 
support  his  family,  as  they  had  theretofore  done,  took  his 
family  away  from  him,  and  made  him  a  bachelor  !  There  is 
no  saying  how  many  applicants  for  relief,  under  these  last 
two  heads,  might  have  started  up  in  all  classes  of  society,  if 
it  had  not  been  coupled  with  the  work-house  ;  but  the  board 
were  long-headed  men,  and  had  provided  for  this  difficulty. 
The  relief  was  inseparable  from  the  work-house  and  the 
gruel  ;  and  that  frightened  people. 

For  the  first  six  months  after  Oliver  Twist  was  removed 
the  system  was  in  full  operation.  It  was  rather  expensive  at 
first,  in  consequence  of  the  increase  in  the  undertaker's  bill, 
and  the  necessity  of  taking  in  the  clothes  of  all  the  paupers, 
which  fluttered  loosely  on  their  wasted,  shrunken  forms, 
after  a  week  or  two's  gruel.  But  the  number  of  work-house 
inmates  got  thin  as  well  as  the  paupers  ;  and  the  board  were 
in  ecstasies. 

The  room  in  which  the  boys  were  fed  was  a  large  stone 
hail,  with  a  copper  at  one  end  ;  out  of  which  the  master, 
dressed  in  an  apron  for  the  purpose,  and  assisted  by  one  or 
two  women,  ladled  the  gruel  out  at  meal  times.     Of  this  fes- 


i8  OLIVER  TWIST. 

tive  composition  each  boy  had  one  porringer,  and  no  more 
— except  on  occasions  of  great  public  rejoicing,  when  he 
had  two  ounces  and  a  quarter  of  bread  besides.  The  bowls 
never  wanted  washing.  The  boys  polished  them  with  their 
spoons  till  they  shone  again  ;  and  when  they  had  performed 
this  operation  (which  never  took  very  long,  the  spoons  be- 
ing nearly  as  large  as  the  bowls),  they  would  sit  staring  at 
the  copper,  with  such  eager  eyes,  as  if  they  could  have  de- 
voured the  very  bricks  of  which  it  was  composed  ;  employ- 
ing themselves,  meanwhile,  in  sucking  tfieir  fingers  most 
assiduously,  with  the  view  of  catching  up  any  stray  splashes 
of  gruel  that  might  have  been  cast  thereon.  Boys  have  gen- 
erally excellent  appetites.  Oliver  Twist  and  his  companions 
suffered  the  tortures  of  slow  starvation  for  three  months  ;  at 
last  they  got  so  voracious  and  wild  with  hunger,  that  one  boy 
who  was  tall  for  his  age,  and  hadn't  been  used  to  that  sort 
of  thing  (for  his  father  had  kept  a  small  cook-shop)  hinted 
darkly  to  his  companions,  that  unless  he  had  another  basin 
of  gruel  per  diem,  he  was  afraid  he  might  some  night  happen 
to  eat  the  boy  who  slept  next  to  him,  who  happened  to  be  a 
weakly  youth  of  tender  age.  He  had  a  wild,  hungry  eye  : 
and  they  implicitly  believed  him.  A  council  was  held  ;  lots 
were  cast  who  should  walk  up  to  the  master  after  supper 
that  evening,  and  ask  for  more ;  and  it  fell  to  Oliver 
Twist. 

The  evening  arrived;  the  boys  took  their  places.  The 
master,  in  his  cook's  uniform,  stationed  himself  at  the  copper  ; 
his  pauper  assistants  ranged  themselves  behind  him  ;  the 
gruel  was  served  out  ;  and  a  long  grace  was  said  over  a  short 
commons.  The  gruel  disappeared  ;  the  boys  whispered  each 
other  and  winked  at  Oliver ;  while  his  next  neighbors 
nudged  him.  Child  as  he  was,  he  was  desperate  with  hunger 
and  reckless  with  misery.  He  rose  from  the  table  ;  and 
advancing  to  the  master,  basin  and  spoon  in  hand,  said,  some' 
what  alarmed  at  his  own  temerity  : 

"  Please,  sir,  I  want  some  more." 

The  master  was  a  fat,  healthy  man  :  but  he  turned  very 
pale.  He  gazed  in  stupefied  astonishment  on  the  small  rebel 
for  some  seconds,  and  then  clung  for  support  to  the  copper. 
The  assistants  were  paralyzed  with  wonder  ;  the  boys  with 
fear. 

"  What  !  "  said  the  master  at  length,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  Please,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  "  1  want  some  more." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  19 

The  master  aimed  a  blow  at  Oliver's  head  with  the  ladle  ; 
pinioned  his  arms  ;  and  shrieked  aloud  for  the  beadle. 

The  board  were  sitting  in  solemn  conclave,  when  Mr. 
Bumble  rushed  into  the  room  in  great  excitement,  and  ad- 
dressing the  gentleman  in  the  high  chair,  said, 

"  Mr.  Limbkins,  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  !  Oliver  Twist 
has  asked  for  more." 

There  was  a  general  start.  Horror  was  depicted  in  every 
countenance. 

li  For  ?twre  I  "  said  Mr.  Limbkins.  "  Compose  yourself, 
Bumble,  and  answer  me  distinctly.  Do  I  understand  that 
he  asked  for  more,  after  he  had  eaten  the  supper  allotted  by 
the  dietary  ?  " 

"•He  did,  sir,"  replied  Bumble. 

"  That  boy  will  be  hung,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  white 
waistcoat.     "  I  know  that  boy  will  be  hung." 

Nobody  controverted  the  prophetic  gentleman's  opinion. 
An  animated  discussion  took  place.  Oliver  was  ordered  into 
confinement  ;  and  a  bill  was  next  morning  pasted  on  the 
outside  of  the  gate,  offering  a  reward  of  five  pounds  to  any 
body  who  would  take  Oliver  Twist  off  the  hands  of  the  par- 
ish. In  other  words,  five  pounds  and  Oliver  Twist  were 
offered  to  any  man  or  woman  who  wanted  an  apprentice  to 
any  trade,  business  or  calling. 

I  never  was  more  convinced  of  any  thing  in  my  life," 
said  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat,  as  he  knocked  at 
the  gate  and  read  the  bill  the  next  morning  :  u  I  never  was 
more  convinced  of  any  thing  in  my  life,  than  I  am  that  that 
boy  will  come  to  be  hung." 

As  I  propose  to  show  in  the  sequel  whether  the  white- 
waistcoated  gentleman  was  right  or  not,  I  should  perhaps 
mar  the  interest  of  this  narrative  (supposing  it  to  possess  any 
at  all),  if  I  ventured  to  hint  just  yet,  whether  the  life  of  Oliver 
Twist  had  this  violent  termination  or  no. 


20  OLIVER  TWIST. 


CHAPTER  III. 

RELATES    HOW  OLIVER  TWIST    WAS    VERY    NEAR    GETTING    A 
PLACE     WHICH     WOULD    NOT    HAVE    BEEN    A   SINECURE. 

For  a  week  after  the  commission  of  the  impious  and  pro- 
fane offense  of  asking  for  more,  Oliver  remained  a  close 
prisoner  in  the  dark  and  solitary  room  to  which  he  had  been 
consigned  by  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  the  board.  It  ap- 
pears, at  first  sight,  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that,  if  he 
had  entertained  a  becoming  feeling  of  respect  for  the  pre- 
diction of  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat,  he  would 
have  established  that  sage  individual's  prophetic  character 
once  and  forever,  by  tying  one  end  of  his  pocket-handker- 
chief to  a  hook  in  the  wall  and  attaching  himself  to  the  other. 
To  the  performance  of  this  feat,  however,  there  was  one  ob- 
stacle ;  namely,  that  pocket-handkerchiefs  being  decided  ar- 
ticles of  luxury,  had  been,  for  all  future  times  and  ages,  re- 
moved from  the  noses  of  paupers  by  the  express  order  of  the 
board,  in  council  assembled,  solemnly  given  and  pronounced 
under  their  hands  and  seals.  There  was  a  stpl  greater  ob- 
stacle in  Oliver's  youth  and  childishness.  i/He  only  cried 
bitterly  all  day  ;  and,  when  the  long,  dismal  night  came  on, 
spread  his  little  hands  before  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  dark- 
ness, and  crouching  in  the  corner,  tried  to  sleep  :  ever  and 
anon  waking  with  a  start  and  tremble,  and  drawing  himself 
closer  and  closer  to  the  wall,  as  if  to  feel  even  its  cold  hard 
surface  were  a  protection  in  the  gloom  and  loneliness  which 
surrounded  him. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  by  the  enemies  of  "  the  system," 
that,  during  the  period  of  his  solitary  incarceration,  Oliver 
was  denied  the  benefit  of  exercise,  the  pleasure  of  society, 
or  the  advantages  of  religious  consolation.  As  for  exercise, 
it  was  nice  cold  weather,  and  he  was  allowed  to  perform  his 
ablutions  every  morning  under  the  pump,  in  a  stone  yard,  in 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Bumble,  who  prevented  his  catching 
cold,  and  caused  a  tingling  sensation  to  pervade  his  frame, 
by  repeated  applications  of  the  cane.  As  for  society,  he  was 
carried  every  other  day  into  the  hall  where  the  boys  dined, 
and  there  sociably  flogged  as  a  public  warning  and  example. 
And  so  far  from  being  denied  the  advantage  of  religious 
consolation,  he  was  kicked  into  the  same  apartment   every 


OLIVER  TWIST.  21 

evening  at  prayer-time,  and  there  permitted  to  listen  to,  and 
console  his  mind  with,  a  general  supplication  of  the  boys, 
containing  a  special  clause,  therein  inserted  by  authority  of 
the  board,  in  which  they  entreated  to  be  made  good,  virtuous, 
contented  and  obedient,  and  to  be  guarded  from  the  sins 
and  vices  of  Oliver  Twist  :  whom  the  supplication  distinctly 
set  forth  to  be  under  the  exclusive  patronage  and  protection 
of  the  powers  of  wickedness,  and  an  article  direct  from  the 
manufactory  of  the  very  Devil  himself. 

It  chanced  one  morning,  while  Oliver's  affairs  were  in  this 
auspicious  and  comfortable  state,  that  Mr.  Gamfield,  chim- 
ney-sweep, went  his  way  down  the  High  Street,  deeply  cogi- 
tating in  his  mind  his  ways  and  means  of  paying  certain  ar- 
rears of  rent,  for  which  his  landlord  had  become  rather 
pressing.  Mr.  Gamfield's  most  sanguine  estimate  of  his 
finances  could  not  raise  them  within  full  five  pounds  of  the 
desired  amount  ;  and,  in  a  species  of  arithmetical  despera- 
tion, he  was  cudgeling  his  brains  and  his  donkey,  when,  pass- 
ing the  workhouse,  his  eyes  encountered  the  bill  on  the 
gate. 

*■  Wo — o  !  "  said  Mr.  Gamfield  to  the  donkey. 

The  donkey  was  in  a  state  of  profound  abstraction  ;  won- 
dering, probably,  whether  he  was  destined  to  be  regaled  with 
a  cabbage-stalk  or  two  when  he  had  disposed  of  the  two> 
sacks  of  soot  with  which  the  little  cart  was  laden  ;  so,  with- 
out noticing  the  word  of  command,  he  jogged  onward. 

Mr.  Gamfield  growled  a  fierce  imprecation  on  the  donkey 
generally,  but  more  particulary  on  his  eyes  ;  and,  running 
after  him,  bestowed  a  blow  on  his  head,  which  would  inev- 
itably have  beaten  in  any  skull  but  a  donkey's.  Then,  catch- 
ing hold  of  the  bridle,  he  gave  his  jaw  a  sharp  wrench,  by 
way  of  a  gentle  reminder  that  he  was  not  his  own  master  ; 
and  by  these  means  turned  him  round.  He  then  gave  him 
another  blow  on  the  head,  just  to  stun  him  till  he  came 
back  again.  Having  completed  these  arrangements,  he  walked 
up  to  the  gate,  to  read  the  bill. 

The  gentleman  with  the  white  waistcoat  was  standing  at 
the  gate  with  his  hands  behind  him,  after  having  delivered 
himself  of  some  profound  sentiments  in  the  board-room. 
Having  witnessed  the  little  dispute  between  Mr.  Gamfield 
and  the  donkey,  he  smiled  joyously  when  that  person  came 
up  to  read  the  bill,  for  he  saw  at  once  that  Mr.  Gamfield 
was  exactly  the  sort  of  master  Oliver  Twist  wanted,      Mr, 


22  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Gamfield  smiled,  too,  as  he  perused  the  document  ;  for  five 
pounds  was  just  the  sum  he  had  been  wishing  for  ;  and,  as 
to  the  boy  with  which  it  was  encumbered,  Mr.  Gamfield, 
knowing  what  the  dietary  of  the  work-house  was,  well  knew 
he  would  be  a  nice  small  pattern,  just  the  thing  for  register 
stoves.  So,  he  spelled  the  bill  through  again  from  begin- 
ning to  end  ;  and  then  touching  his  fur  cap  in  token  of  hu- 
mility, accosted  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat. 

"  This  here  boy,  sir,  wot  the  parish  wants  to  'prentis,"  said 
Mr.  Gamfield. 

"  Ay,  my  man,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat, 
with  a  condescending  smile.     "  What  of  him  ?  " 

"  If  the  parish  vould  like  him  to  learn  a  light  pleasant 
trade,  in  a  good  'spectable  chimbley-sweepin'  bisness,"  said 
Mr.  Gamfield,  "  I  want's  a  'prentis,  and  I  am  ready  to  take 
him." 

"  Walk  in,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat. 
Mr.  Gamfield  having  lingered  behind,  to  give  the  donkey 
another  blow  on  the  head,  and  another  wrench  of  the  jaw, 
as  a  caution  not  to  run  away  in  his  absence,  followed  the 
gentleman  with  the  white  waistcoat  into  the  room  where 
Oliver  had  first  seen  him. 

"  It's  a  nasty  trade,"  said  Mr.  Limbkins,  when  Gamfield 
had  again  stated  his  wish. 

"  Young  boys  have  been  smothered  in  chimneys  before 
now,"  said  another  gentleman. 

"That's  acause  they  damped  the  straw  afore  they  lit  it  in 
the  chimbley  to  make  'em  come  down  agin,"  said  Gamfield  ; 
"  that's  all  smoke,  and  no  blaze  ;  vereas  smoke  ain't  o'  no 
use  at  all  in  making  a  boy  come  down,  for  it  only  sinds  him 
to  sleep,  and  that's  wot  he  likes.  Boys  is  wery  obstinit,  and 
wery  lazy,  gen'lmen,  and  there's  nothink  like  a  good  hot 
blaze  to  make  'em  come  down  vith  a  run.  It's  humane,  too, 
gen'lmen,  acause,  even  if  they've  stuck  in  the  chimbley, 
roasting  their  feet  make's  'em  struggle  to  hextricate  their- 
selves." 

The  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat  appeared  very  much 
amused  by  this  explanation  ;  but  his  mirth  was  speedily 
checked  by  a  look  from  Mr.  Limbkins.  The  board  then 
proceeded  to  converse  among  themselves  for  a  few  minutes, 
but  in  so  low  a  tone,  that  the  words  "  saving  of  expendi- 
ture," "  looked  well  in  the  accounts,"  "  have  a  printed  re- 
port published,"  were  alone  audible.     These  only  chanced 


OLIVER  TWIST.  23 

to  be  heard,  indeed,  on  account  of  their  being  very  fre- 
quently repeated  with  great  emphasis. 

At  length  the  whispering  ceased  ;  and  the  members  of  the 
board,  having  resumed  their  seats  and  their  solemnity,  Mr. 
Limbkins  said  : 

"  We  have  considered  your  proposition,  and  we  don't  ap- 
prove of  it." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  white  waist- 
coat. 

"  Decidedly  not,"  added  the  other  members. 

As  Mr.  Gamfield  did  happen  to  labor  under  the  slight 
imputation  of  having  bruised  three  or  four  boys  to  death 
already,  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  board  had,  perhaps,  in 
some  unaccountable  freak,  taken  it  into  their  heads  that  this 
extraneous  circumstance  ought  to  influence  their  proceed- 
ings. It  was  very  unlike  their  general  mode  of  doing  busi- 
ness, if  they  had  ;  but  still,  as  he  had  no  particular  wish  to 
revive  the  rumor,  he  twisted  his  cap  in  his  hand  and  walked 
slowly  away  from  the  table. 

"  So  you  won't  let  me  have  him,  gen'lmen  ? "  said  Mr. 
Gamfield,  pausing  near  the  door. 

*'  No,"  replied  Mr.  Limbkins;  ''at  least,  as  it's  a  nasty 
business,  we  think  you  ought  to  take  something  less  than  the 
premium  we  offered." 

Mr.  Gamfield's  countenance  brightened,  as,  with  a  quick 
step  he  returned  to  the  table,  and  said  : 

What'll  you  give,   gen'lmen  ?      Come !      Don't  be  too 
hard  on  a  poor  man.     What'll  you  give  ?  " 

"I  should  say  three  pound  ten  was  plenty,"  said  Mr. 
Limbkins. 

u  Ten  shillings  too  much,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the 
white  waistcoat. 

"  Come  !  "  said  Gamfield  ;  "  say  four  pound,  gen'lmen. 
Say  four  pound,  and  you've  got  rid  of  him  for  good  and  all. 
There  ! " 

"  Three  pound  ten,"  repeated  Mr.  Limbkins,  firmly. 

"Come!  I'll  split  the  difference,  gen'lmen,"  urged  Gam- 
field.    "  Three  pound  fifteen." 

"  Not  a  farthing  more,"  was  the  firm  reply  of  Mr.  Limb- 
kins. 

"  You're  desperate  hard  upon  me,  gen'lmen,"  said  Gam- 
field, wavering, 

"  Pooh  !    pooh  I    nonsense  !  "    said  the  gentleman  in  the 


24  OLIVER  TWIST. 

white  waistcoat.  "  He'd  be  cheap  with  nothing  at  all,  as  a 
premium.  Take  him,  you  silly  fellow  !  He's  just  the  boy 
for  you.  He  want's  the  stick,  now  and  then  :  it  '11  do  him 
good;  and  his  board  needn't  come  very  expensive,  for 
he  hasn't  been  overfed  since  he  was  born.  Ha !  ha ! 
ha!" 

Mr.  Gamfield  gave  an  arch  look  at  the  faces  around  the 
table,  and,  observing  a  smile  on  all  of  them,  gradually  broke 
into  a  smile  himself.  The  bargain  was  made.  Mr.  Bumble 
was  at  once  instructed  that  Oliver  Twist  and  his  indentures 
were  to  be  conveyed  before  the  magistrate,  for  signature 
and  approval,  that  very  afternoon. 

In  pursuance  of  this  determination,  little  Oliver,  to  his 
excessive  astonishment,  was  released  from  bondage,  and 
ordered  to  put  himself  into  a  clean  shirt.  He  had  hardly 
achieved  this  very  unusual  gymnastic  performance,  when 
Mr.  Bumble  brought  him  with  his  own  hands,  a  basin  of 
gruel,  and  the  holiday  allowance  of  two  ounces  and  a  quar- 
ter of  bread.  At  this  tremendous  sight,  Oliver  began  to 
cry  very  piteously  ;  thinking,  not  unnaturally,  that  the 
board  must  have  determined  to  kill  him  for  some  useful 
purpose,  or  they  never  would  have  begun  to  fatten  him  up 
in  that  way. 

"  Don't  make  your  eyes  red,  Oliver,  but  eat  your  food  and 
be  thankful,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  in  a  tone  of  impressive 
pomposity.  "  You're  going  to  be  made  a  'prentice  of, 
Oliver." 

"  A  'prentice,  sir  !  "  said  the  child,  trembling. 

"Yes,  Oliver,"  said  Mr.  Bumble.  "The  kind  and 
blessed  gentlemen  which  is  so  many  parents  to  you,  when 
you  had  none  of  your  own  are  a  going  to  'prentice  you,  and 
to  set  you  up  in  life  and  make  a  man  of  you  :  although  the 
expense  to  the  parish  is  three  pounds  ten  I — three  pounds 
ten,  Oliver  ! — seventy  shillings — one  hundred  and  forty  six- 
pences !  and  all  for  a  naughty  orphan  which  nobody  can't 
love." 

As  Mr.  Bumble  paused  to  take  breath,  after  delivering 
this  address  in  an  awful  voice,  the  tears  rolled  down  the 
poor  child's  face,  and  he  sobbed  bitterly. 

"  Come,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  somewhat  less  pompously,  for 
it  was  gratifying  to  his  feelings  to  observe  the  effect  his  elo- 
quence had  produced  ;  "  come,  Oliver  !  Wipe  your  eyes 
\yith  the  cuffs  of  your  jacket,  and  don't  cry  into  your  gruel ; 


OLIVER  TWIST.  *5 

that's  a  very  foolish  action,  Oliver."  It  certainly  was,  for 
there  was  quite  enough  water  in  it  already. 

On  their  way  to  the  magistrate,  Mr.  Bumble  instructed 
Oliver  that  all  he  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  look  very 
happy,  and  say,  when  the  gentleman  asked  him  if  he  wanted 
to  be  apprenticed,  that  he  would  like  it  very  much  indeed  ; 
both  of  which  injunctions  Oliver  promised  to  obey  :  the 
rather  as  Mr.  Bumble  threw  in  a  gentle  hint,  that  if  he 
failed  in  either  particular,  there  was  no  telling  what  would 
be  done  to  him.  When  they  arrived  at  the  office,  he  was 
shut  up  in  a  little  room  by  himself,  and  admonished  by  Mr.. 
Bumble  to  stay  there,  until  he  came  back  to  fetch  him. 

There  the  boy  remained,  with  a  palpitating  heart,  for  half 
an  hour.  At  the  expiration  of  which  time  Mr.  Bumble 
thrust  in  his  head,  unadorned  with  the  cocked  hat,  and  said 
aloud : 

"  Now,  Oliver  my  dear,  come  to  the  gentlemen."  As  Mr. 
Bumble  said  this,  he  put  on  a  grim  and  threatening  look, 
and  added  in  a  low  voice  :  "  Mind  what  I  told  you,  you 
young  rascal  ! " 

Oliver  stared  innocently  in  Mr.  Bumble's  face  at  this 
somewhat  contradictory  style  of  address  ;  but  that  gentle- 
man prevented  his  offering  any  remark  thereupon,  by  lead- 
ing him  at  once  into  an  adjoining  room  :  the  door  of  which 
was  open.  It  was  a  large  room,  with  a  great  window.  Be- 
hind a  desk  sat  two  old  gentlemen  with  powdered  heads  : 
one  of  whom  was  reading  the  newspaper  ;  while  the  other 
was  perusing,  with  the  aid  of  a  pair  of  tortoise-shell  specta- 
cles, a  small  piece  of  parchment  which  lay  before  him.  Mr. 
Limbkins  was  standing  in  front  of  the  desk  on  one  side; 
and  Mr.  Gamneld,  with  a  partially  washed  face,  on  the 
other  ;  while  two  or  three  bluff-looking  men,  in  top-boots, 
were  lounging  about. 

The  old  gentleman  with  the  spectacles  gradually  dozed 
off,  over  the  little  bit  of  parchment  ;  and  there  was  a  short 
pause,  after  Oliver  had  been  stationed  by  Mr.  Bumble  in 
front  of  the  desk. 

"  This  is  the  boy,  your  worship,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

The  old  gentleman  who  was  reading  the  newspaper  raised 
his  head  for  a  moment,  and  pulled  the  other  old  gentleman 
by  the  sleeve  ;  whereupon  the  last-mentioned  old  gentle- 
man woke  up. 

"Oh,  is  this  the  boy  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 


26  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  This  is  him,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble.  "  Bow  to  the 
magistrate,  my  dear." 

Oliver  roused  himself,  and  made  his  best  obeisance.  He 
had  been  wondering,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  magistrates' 
powder,  whether  all  boards  were  born  with  that  white  stuff 
on  their  heads,  and  were  boards  from  thenceforth  on  that 
account. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  suppose  he's  fond  of 
chimney-sweeping  ?  " 

"  He  dotes  on  it  your  worship,"  replied  Bumble  ;  giving 
Oliver  a  sly  pinch,  to  intimate  that  he  had'  better  not  say  he 
didn't. 

"  And  he  will  be  a  sweep,  will  he !  "  inquired  the  gentle- 
man. 

"  If  we  was  to  bind  him  to  any  other  trade  to-morrow, 
he'd  ruri  away  simultaneous,  your  worship,"  replied  Bum- 
ble. 

"  And  this  man  that's  to  be  his  master — you,  sir — you'll 
treat  him  well,  and  feed  him,  and  do  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
will  you  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"When  I  says  I  will,  I  means  I  will,"  replied  Mr.  Gam- 
field,  doggedly. 

"  You're  a  rough  speaker,  my  friend,  but  you  look  an 
honest,  open-hearted  man,"  said  the  old  gentleman :  turn- 
ing his  spectacles  in  the  direction  of  the  candidate  for  Oli- 
ver's premium,  whose  villainous  countenance  was  a  regular 
stamped  receipt  for  cruelty.  But  the  magistrate  was  half 
blind  and  half  childish,  so  he  couldn't  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected to  discern  what  other  people  did. 

"  I  hope  I  am,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Gamfield,  with  an  ugly  leer. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are,  my  friend,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman,  fixing  his  spectacles  more  firmly  on  his  nose, 
and  looking  about  him  for  the  inkstand. 

It  was  the  critical  moment  for  Oliver's  fate.  If  the  ink- 
stand had  been  where  the  old  gentleman  thought  it  was,  he 
would  have  dropped  his  pen  into  it,  and  signed  the  inden- 
tures, and  Oliver  would  have  been  straightway  hurried  off. 
But,  as  it  chanced  to  be  immediately  under  his  nose,  it  fol- 
lowed as  a  matter  of  course,  that  he  looked  all  over  his  desk 
for  it,  without  finding  it  ;  and  happening  in  the  course  of  his 
search  to  look  straight  before  him,  his  gaze  encountered  the 
pale  and  terrified  face  of  Oliver  Twist  :  who,  despite  all  the 
admonitory  looks  and  pinches  of  Bumble,  was  regarding  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  27 

repulsive  countenance  of  his  future  master,  with  a  mingled 
expression  of  horror  and  fear,  too  palpable  to  be  mistaken, 
even  by  a  half-blind  magistrate. 

The  old  gentleman  stopped,  laid  down  his  pen,  and  looked 
from  Oliver  to  Mr.  Limbkins  ;  who  attempted  to  take  snuff 
with  a  cheerful  and  unconcerned  aspect. 

"  My  boy !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  leaning  over  the 
desk.  Oliver  started  at  the  sound.  He  might  be  excused 
for  doing  so  :  for  the  words  were  kindly  said  ;  and  strange 
sounds  frighten  one.  He  trembled  violently,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  My  boy  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  you  look  pale  and 
alarmed.     What  is  the  matter  ? " 

"Stand  a  little  way  from  him,  Beadle,"  said  the  other 
magistrate,  laying  aside  the  paper,  and  leaning  forward  with 
an  expression  of  interest.  "  Now,  boy,  tell  us  what's  the 
matter  :  don't  be  afraid." 

Oliver  fell  on  his  knees,  and  clasping  his  hands  together, 
prayed  that  they  would  order  him  back  to  the  dark  room — 
that  they  would  starve  him — beat  him — kill  him,  if  they 
pleased — rather  than  send  him  away  with  that  dreadful  man. 

"Well!"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  raising  his  hands  and  eyes 
with  most  impressive  solemnity.  "  Well  !  of  all  the  artful 
and  designing  orphans  that  ever  I  see,  Oliver,  you  are  one 
of  the  most  barefacedest." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Beadle,"  said  the  second  old  gentle- 
man, when  Mr.  Bumble  had  given  vent  to  this  compound 
adjective. 

"  I  beg  your  worship's  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  incred- 
ulous of  his  having  heard  aright.  "  Did  your  worship  speak 
to  me  ? " 

"  Yes.     Hold  your  tongue." 

Mr.  Bumble  was  stupefied  with  astonishment.  A  beadle 
ordered  to  hold  his  tongue  !  A  moral  revolution  ! 

The  old  gentleman  in  the  tortoise-shell  spectacles  looked 
at  his  companion,  he  nodded  significantly. 

"  We  refuse  to  sanction  these  indentures,"  said  the  old 
gentleman  :  tossing  aside  the  piece  of  parchment  as  he 
spoke. 

"  I  hope,"  stammered  Mr.  Limbkins  :  "  I  hope  the  mag- 
istrates will  not  form  the  opinion  that  the  authorities  have 
been  guilty  of  any  improper  conduct,  on  the  unsupported 
testimony  of  a  mere  child." 


* 


a8  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  The  magistrates  are  not  called  upon  to  pronounce  any 
opinion  on  the  matter,"  said  the  second  old  gentleman 
sharply.  "  Take  the  boy  back  to  the  workhouse,  and  treat 
him  kindly.     He  seems  to  want  it." 

That  same  evening,  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat 
most  positively  and  decidedly  affirmed,  not  only  that  Oliver 
would  be  hung,  but  that  he  would  be  drawn  and  quartered 
into  the  bargain.  Mr.  Bumble  shook  his  head  with  gloomy 
mystery,  and  said  he  wished  he  might  come  to  good  ;  where- 
unto  Mr.  Gamfield  replied,  that  he  wished  he  might  come 
to  him  ;  which,  although  he  agreed  with  the  beadle  in  most 
matters,  would  seem  to  be  a  wish  of  a  totally  opposite  de- 
scription. 

The  next  morning,  the  public  were  once  more  informed 
that  Oliver  Twist  was  again  To  Let,  and  that  five  pounds 
would  be  paid  to  any  body  who  would  take  possession  of 
him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OLIVER,      BEING     OFFERED     ANOTHER     PLACE,     MAKES      HIS 
FIRST    ENTRY    INTO    PUBLIC    LIFE. 

In  great  families,  when  an  advantageous  place  can  not  be 
obtained,  either  in  possession,  reversion,  remainder,  or  ex- 
pectancy, for  the  young  man  who  is  growing  up,  it  is  a  very 
general  custom  to  send  him  to  sea.  The  board,  in  imitation 
of  so  wise  and  salutary  an  example,  took  counsel  together 
on  the  expediency  of  shipping  off  Oliver  Twist  in  some  small 
trading  vessel  bound  +j  a  good  unhealthy  port.  This  sug- 
gested itself  as  the  very  best  thing  that  could  possibly  be 
done  with  him  ;  the  probability  being  that  the  skipper  would 
flog  him  to  death,  in  a  playful  mood,  some  day  after  dinner, 
or  would  knock  his  brains  out  with  an  iron  bar  ;  both  pas- 
times being,  as  is  pretty  generally  known,  very  favorite  and 
common  recreations  among  gentlemen  of  that  class.  The 
more  the  case  presented  itself  to  the  board,  in  this  point  of 
view,  the  more  manifold  the  advantages  of  the  step  ap- 
peared ;  so,  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  way 
of  providing  for  Oliver  effectually,  was  to  send  him  to  sea 
without  delay. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  29 

Mr.  Bumble  had  been  dispatched  to  make  various  pi  elimi- 
nary  inquiries,  with  the  view  of  finding  out  some  captain  or 
other  who  wanted  a  cabin-boy  without  any  friends  ;  and  was 
returning  to  the  workhouse  to  communicate  the  result  of  his 
mission  ;  when  he  encountered  at  the  gate  no  less  a  person 
than  Mr.  Sowerberry,  the  parochial  undertaker. 

Mr.  Sowerberry  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  large-jointed  man,  at- 
tired in  a  suit  of  threadbare  black,  with  darned  cotton  stock- 
ings of  the  same  color,  and  shoes  to  answer.  His  features 
were  not  naturally  intended  to  wear  a  smiling  aspect,  but  he 
was  in  general  rather  given*  to  professional  jocosity.  His 
step  was  elastic,  and  his  face  betokened  inward  pleasantry, 
as  he  advanced  to  Mr.  Bumble,  and  shook  him  cordially  by 
the  hand. 

"  I  have  taken  the  measure  of  the  two  women  that  died 
last  night,  Mr.  Bumble,"  said  the  undertaker. 

"  You'll  make  your  fortune,  Mr.  Sowerberry,"  said  the 
beadle,  as  he  thrust  his  thumb  and  forefinger  into  the 
proffered  snuff-box  of  the  undertaker  ;  which  was  an  ingen- 
ious little  model  of  a  patent  coffin.  M  I  say  you'll  make  your 
fortune,  Mr.  Sowerberry,"  repeated  Mr.  Bumble,  tapping  the 
undertaker  on  the  shoulder,  in  a  friendly  manner,  with  his 
cane. 

"  Think  so  ?  "  said  the  undertaker,  in  a  tone  which  half 
admitted  and  half  disputed  the  probability  of  the  event. 
"  The  prices  allowed  by  the  board  are  very  small,  Mr. 
Bumble." 

"  So  are  the  coffins,"  replied  the  beadle  :  with  precisely 
as  near  an  approach  to  a  laugh  as  a  great  official  ought  to 
indulge  in. 

Mr.  Sowerberry  was  much  tickled  at  this  :  as  of  course  he 
ought  to  be  ;  and  laughed  a  long-time  without  cessation. 
"Well,  well,  Mr.  Bumble,"  he  said  "at  length,  "there's  no 
denying  that,  since  the  new  system  of  feeding  has  come  in, 
the  coffins  are  something  narrower  and  more  shallow  than 
they  used  to  be  ;  but  we  must  have  some  profit,  Mr.  Bum- 
ble. Well-seasoned  timber  is  an  expensive  article,  sir  ;  and 
all  the  iron  handles  come  by  canal,  from  Birmingham." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  "  every  trade  has  its  draw- 
backs.    A  fair  profit  is,  of  course,  allowable." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  the  undertaker  ;  "and  if 
I  don't  get  a  profit  upon  this  or  that  particular  article,  why, 
I  make  it  up  in  the  long  run,  you  see — he  !  he  !  he  !  " 


30  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  Though  I  must  say,"  continued  the  undertaker,  resum, 
ing  the  current  of  observations  which  the  beadle  had  inter* 
rupted  :  "  though  I  must  say,  Mr.  Bumble,  that  I  have  to 
contend  against  one  very  great  disadvantage,  which  is,  that 
all  the  stout  people  go  off  the  quickest.  The  people  who 
have  been  better  off,  and  have  paid  rates  for  many  years,  are 
the  first  to  sink  when  they  come  into  the  house  ;  and  let  me 
tell  you,  Mr.  Bumble,  that  three  or  four  inches  over  one's/ 
calculation  makes  a  great  hole  in  one's  profits  ;  especially 
when  one  has  a  family  to  provide  for,  sir." 

As  Mr.  Sowerberry  said  this,  with  the  becoming  indigna- 
tion of  an  ill-used  man  ;  and  as  Mr.  Bumble  felt  that  it 
rather  tended  to  convey  a  reflection  on  the  honor  of  the 
parish  ;  the  latter  gentleman  thought  it  advisable  to  change 
the  subject.  Oliver  Twist  being  uppermost  in  his  mind,  he 
made  him  his  theme. 

"By-the-by,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  "you  don't  know  any 
body  who  wants  a  boy,  do  you  ?  A  porochial  'prentis,  who  is 
at  present  a  dead-weight  ;  a  millstone,  as  I  may  say  ;  round 
the  porochial  throat  ?  Liberal  terms,  Mr.  Sowerberry,  liberal 
terms  !  "  As  Mr.  Bumble  spoke,  he  raised  his  cane  to  the 
bill  above  him,  and  gave  three  distinct  raps  upon  the  words 
"five  pounds;"  which  were  printed  thereon  in  Roman 
capitals  of  gigantic  size. 

"  Gadso  !  "  said  the  undertaker,  taking  Mr.  Bumble  by  the 
gilt-edged  lappel  of  his  official  coat  ;  "  that's  just  the  very 
thing  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about.  You  know — dear 
me,  what  a  very  elegant  button  this  is,  Mr.  Bumble  !  I 
never  noticed  it  before." 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  rather  pretty,"  said  the  beadle,  glancing 
proudly  downward  at  the  large  brass  buttons  which  embel- 
lished his  coat.  "  The  die  is  the  same  as  the  porochial  seal 
— the  Good  Samaritan  healing  the  sick  and  bruised  man. 
The  board  presented  it  to  me  on  New  Year's  morning,  Mr. 
Sowerberry.  I  put  it  on,  I  remember,  for  the  first  time,  to 
attend  the  inquest  on  that  reduced  tradesman,  who  died  in 
a  door-way  at  midnight." 

"I  recollect,"  said  the  undertaker.  "The  jury  brought  it 
in,  '  Died  from  exposure  to  the  cold,  and  want  of  the  com- 
mon necessaries  of  life,'  didn't  they  ?  " 

Mr.  Bumble  nodded. 

"  And  they  made  it  a  special  verdict,  I  think,"  said  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  31 

undertaker,  "  by  adding  some  words  to  the  effect  that  if  the 
relieving  officer  had — " 

"Tush!  Foolery!"  interposed  the  beadle.  "  If  the  board 
attended  to  all  the  nonsense  that  ignorant  jurymen  talk, 
they'd  have  enough  to  do." 

"Very  true,"  said  the  undertaker;  "they  would 
indeed." 

"Juries,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  grasping  his  cane  tightly,  as 
was  his  wont  when  working  into  a  passion  :  "juries  is  ined- 
dicated,  vulgar,  groveling  wretches." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  the  undertaker. 

"  They  haven't  no  more  philosophy  nor  political  economy 
about  'em  than  that,"  said  the  beadle,  snapping  his  fingers 
contemptuously. 

"  No  more  they  have,"  acquiesced  the  undertaker. 

"  I  despise  'em,"  said  the  beadle,  growing  very  red  in  the 
face. 

"  So  do  I,"  rejoined  the  undertaker. 

"And  I  only  wish  we'd  a  jury  of  the  independent  sort  in 
the  house  for  a  week  or  two,"  said  the  beadle  ;  "  the  rules 
and  regulations  of  the  board  would  soon  bring  their  spirit 
down  for  'em." 

"  Let  'em  alone  for  that,"  replied  the  undertaker.  So  say- 
ing, he  smiled  approvingly,  to  calm  the  rising  wrath  of  the 
indignant  parish  officer. 

Mr.  Bumble  lifted  off  his  cocked  hat ;  took  a  handker- 
chief from  the  inside  of  the  crown  ;  wiped  from  his  fore- 
head the  perspiration  which  his  rage  had  engendered  ;  fixed 
the  cocked  hat  on  again  ;  and,  turning  to  the  undertaker, 
said,  in  a  calmer  voice  : 

"  Well  ;  what  about  the  boy  ? " 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  the  undertaker  ;  "  why,  you  know,  Mr. 
Bumble,  I  pay  a  good  deal  toward  the  poor's  rates." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble.     "  Well  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  the  undertaker,  "  I  was  thinking  that  if 
I  pay  so  much  toward  'em,  I've  a  right  to  get  as  much  out 
of  'em  as  I  can,  Mr.  Bumble  ;  and  so — and  so — I  think  I'll 
take  the  boy  myself." 

Mr.  Bumble  grasped  the  undertaker  by  the  arm,  and  led 
him  into  the  building.  Mr.  Sowerberry  was  closeted  with 
the  board  for  five  minutes,  and  it  was  arranged  that  Oliver 
should  go  to  him  that  evening  "upon  liking" — a  phrase 
which  means,  in  the  case  of  a  parish  apprentice,  that  if  the 


32  OLIVER  TWIST. 

master  find,  upon  a  short  trial,  that  he  can  get  enough  work 
out  of  a  boy  without  putting  too  much  food  into  him,  he 
shall  have  him  for  a  term  of  years,  to  do  what  he  likes 
with. 

When  little  Oliver  was  taken  before  "  the  gentlemen  " 
that  evening,  and  informed  that  he  was  to  go,  that  night,  as 
general  house-lad  to  a  coffin-maker's  ;  and  that  if  he  com- 
plained of  his  situation,  or  ever  came  back  to  the  parish 
again,  he  would  be  sent  to  sea,  there  to  be  drowned,  or 
knocked  on  the  head,  as  the  case  might  be,  he  evinced  so 
little  emotion,  that  they  by  common  consent  pronounced 
him  a  hardened  young  rascal,  and  ordered  Mr.  Bumble  to 
remove  him  forthwith. 

Now,  although  it  was  very  natural  that  the  board,  of  all 
people  in  the  world,  should  feel  in  a  great  state  of  virtuous 
astonishment  and  horror  at  the  smallest  tokens  of  want  of 
feeling  on  the  part  of  any  body,  they  were  rather  out,  in  this 
particular  instance.  The  simple  fact  was,  that  Oliver,  in- 
stead of  possessing  too  little  feeling,  possessed  rather  too 
much  ;  and  was  in  a  fair  way  of  being  reduced,  for  life, 
to  a  state  of  brutal  stupidity  and  sullenness  by  the  ill-usage 
he  had  received.  He  heard  the  news  of  his  destination  in 
perfect  silence  ;  and,  having  had  his  luggage  put  into  his 
hand — which  was  not  very  difficult  to  carry,  inasmuch  as  it 
was  all  comprised  within  the  limits  of  a  brown  paper  parcel, 
about  half  a  foot  square  by  three  inches  deep — he  pulled  his 
cap  over  his  eyes  ;  and  once  more  attaching  himself  to  Mr. 
Bumble's  coat  cuff,  was  led  away  by  that  dignitary  to  a  new 
scene  of  suffering. 

For  some  time,  Mr.  Bumble  drew  Oliver  along,  without 
notice  or  remark  ;  for  the  beadle  carried  his  head  very 
erect,  as  a  beadle  always  should  :  and,  it  being  a  windy  day, 
little  Oliver  was  completely  enshrouded  by  the  skirts  of  Mr. 
Bumble's  coat  as  they  blew  open,  and  disclosed  to  great  ad- 
vantage his  flapped  waistcoat  and  drab  plush  knee-breeches. 
As  they  drew  near  to  their  destination,  however,  Mr.  Bum- 
ble thought  it  expedient  to  look  down,  and  see  that  the  boy 
was  in  good  order  for  inspection  by  his  new  master  :  which 
he  accordingly  did,  with  a  fit  and  becoming  air  of  gracious 
patronage. 

"  Oliver  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  in  a  low,  tremulous  voice. 

"  Pull  that  cap  off  your  eyes,  and  hold  up  your  head,  sir." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  33 

Although  Oliver  did  as  he  was  desired,  at  once,  and 
passed  the  back  of  his  unoccupied  hand  briskly  across  his 
eyes,  he  left  a  tear  in  them  when  he  looked  up  at  his  con- 
ductor. As  Mr.  Bumble  gazed  sternly  upon  him,  it  rolled 
down  his  cheek.  It  was  followed  by  another,  and  another. 
The  child  made  a  strong  effort,  but  it  was  an  unsuccessful 
one.  Withdrawing  his  other  hand  from  Mr.  Bumble's,  he 
covered  his  face  with  both  ;  and  wept  until  the  tears  sprung 
out  from  between  his  chin  and  bony  fingers. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bumble,  stopping  short,  and  dart- 
ing at  his  little  charge  a  look  of  intense  malignity.  "  Well ! 
Of  all  the  ungratefullest  and  worst-disposed  boys  as  ever  I 
see,  Oliver,  you  are  the — " 

"  No,  no,  sir,"  sobbed  Oliver,  clinging  to  the  hand  which 
held  the  well-known  cane  ;  "  no,  no,  sir  ;  I  will  be  good  in- 
deed ;  indeed,  indeed  I  will,  sir  !  I  am  a  very  little  boy, 
sir  ;  and  it  is  so — so" — 

"  So  what  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Bumble,  in  amazement. 

"  So  lonely,  sir !  So  very  lonely  !  "  cried  the  child. 
"Every  body  hates  me.  Oh  !  sir,  don't,  don't,  pray,  be 
cross  to  me  !  "  The  child  beat  his  hand  upon  his  heart ; 
and  looked  in  his  companion's  face,  with  tears  of  real 
agony. 

Mr.  Bumble  regarded  Oliver's  piteous  and  helpless  look, 
with  some  astonishment,  for  a  few  seconds  ;  hemmed  three 
or  four  times  in  a  husky  manner,  and  after  muttering  some- 
thing about  "  that  troublesome  cough,"  bade  Oliver  dry  his 
eyes  and  be  a  good  boy.  Then  once  more  taking  his  hand, 
he  walked  on  with  him  in  silence. 

The  undertaker,  who  had  just  put  up  the  shutters  of  his 
shop,  was  making  some  entries  in  his  day-book  by  the  light 
of  a  most  appropriate  dismal  candle,  when  Mr.  Bumble  en- 
tered. 

"  Aha  !  "  said  the  undertaker  :  looking  up  from  the  book, 
and  pausing  in  the  middle  of  a  word  ;  "  is  that  you,  Bum- 
ble ? " 

"  No  one  else,  Mr.  Sowerberry,"  replied  the  beadle. 
"  Here  !  I've  brought  the  boy."     Oliver  made  a  bow. 

"  Oh  !  that's  the  boy,  is  it  ?  "  said  the  undertaker,  rais- 
ing the  candle  above  his  head,  to  get  a  better  view  of  Oliver. 
"  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  come  here 
a  moment,  my  dear  ? " 

Mrs.  Sowerberry  emerged    from  a  little  room   behind  the 


34  OLIVER  TWIST. 

shop,  and  presented  the  form  of  a  short,  thin,  squeezed-up 
woman,  with  a  vixenish  countenance. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sowerberry,  deferentially,  "  this  is 
the  boy  from  the  work-house  that  I  told  you  of."  Oliver 
bowed  again. 

"  Dear  me  !  ■   said  the  undertaker's  wife,  "he's  very  small." 

"Why  he  is  rather  small,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble  :  looking 
at  Oliver  as  if  it  were  his  fault  that  he  was  no  bigger  ;  "he  is 
small.  There's  no  denying  it.  But  he'll  grow,  Mrs.  Sower- 
berry — he'll  grow." 

"  Ah  !  I  dare  say  he  will,"  replied  the  lady  pettishly,  "  on 
our  victuals  and  our  drink.  I  see  no  saving  in  parish  chil- 
dren, not  I  ;  for  they  always  cost  more  to  keep  than  they're 
worth.  However,  men  always  think  they  know  best.  There  ! 
Get  down  stairs,  little  bag  o'  bones."  With  this,  the  under- 
taker's wife  opened  a  side  door,  and  pushed  Oliver  down  a 
steep  flight  of  stairs  into  a  stone  cell,  damp  and  dark  : 
forming  the  ante-room  to  the  coal-cellar,  and  denominated 
"  kitchen  :  "  wherein  sat  a  slatternly  girl,  in  shoes  down 
at  heel,  and  blue  worsted  stockings  very  much  out  of 
repair. 

"  Here,  Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  who  had  follow- 
ed Oliver  down,  "  give  this  boy  some  of  the  cold  bits  that 
were  put  by  for  Trip.  He  hasn't  come  home  since  the 
morning,  so  he  may  go  without  'em.  I  dare  say  the  boy 
isn't  too  dainty  to  eat  'em — are  you,  boy  ? " 

Oliver,  whose  eyes  had  glistened  at  the  mention  of  meat, 
and  who  was  trembling  with  eagerness  to  devour  it,  replied 
in  the  negative  ;  and  a  plateful  of  coarse  broken  victuals 
was  set  before  him. 

I  wish  some  well-fed  philosopher,  whose  meat  and  drink 
turn  to  gall  within  him — whose  blood  is  ice,  whose  heart  is 
iron — could  have  seen  Oliver  Twist  clutching  at  the  dainty 
viands  that  the  dog  had  neglected.  I  wish  he  could  have 
witnessed  the  horrible  avidity  with  which  Oliver  tore  the  bits 
asunder  with  all  the  ferocity  of  famine.  There  is  only  one 
thing  I  should  like  better  ;  and  that  would  be  to  see  the 
Philosopher  making  the  same  sort  of  meal  himself,  with  the 
same  relish. 

"Well,"  said  the  undertaker's  wife,  when  Oliver  had  fin- 
ished his  supper  :  which  she  had  regarded  in  silent  horror, 
and  with  fearful  auguries  of  his  future  appetite  :  "  have  you 
done?" 


OLIVER  TWIST.  35 

There  being  nothing  eatable  within  his  reach,  Oliver  re- 
plied in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  come  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry  :  taking  up 
a  dim  and  dirty  lamp,  and  leading  the  way  up  stairs  ;  *  your 
bed's  under  the  counter.  You  don't  mind  sleeping  among 
the  coffins,  I  suppose  ?  But  it  doesn't  much  matter  whether 
you  do  or  don't,  for  you  can't  sleep  any  where  else.  Come, 
don't  keep  me  here  all  night  !  " 

Oliver  lingered  no  longer,  but  meekly  followed  his  new 
mistress. 


CHAPTER   V. 

OLIVER  MINGLES  WITH  NEW  ASSOCIATES.  GOING  TO  A  FU- 
NERAL FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME,  HE  FORMS  AN  UNFAVOR- 
ABLE   NOTION  OF  HIS  MASTER'S  BUSINESS. 

Oliver,  being  left  to  himself  in  the  undertaker's  shop, 
set  the  lamp  down  on  a  workman's  bench,  and  gazed  timidly 
about  him  with  a  feeling  of  awe  and  dread,  which  many  peo- 
ple a  good  deal  older  than  he  will  be  at  no  loss  to  under- 
stand. An  unfinished  coffin  on  black  tressels,  which  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  shop,  looked  so  gloomy  and  death-like 
that  a  cold  tremble  came  over  him  every  time  his  eyes  wan- 
dered in  the  direction  of  the  dismal  object :  from  which  he 
almost  expected  to  see  some  frightful  form  slowly  rear  its 
head,  to  drive  him  mad  with  terror.  Against  the  wall  were 
ranged,  in  regular  array,  a  long  row  of  elm  boards  cut  into 
the  same  shape  :  looking  in  the  dim  light,  like  high-should- 
ered ghosts  with  their  hands  in  their  breeches  pockets. 
Coffin-plates,  elm-chips,  bright-headed  nails,  and  shreds  of 
black  cloth,  lay  scattered  on  the  floor  ;  and  the  wall  be- 
hind the  counter  was  ornamented  with  a  lively  representa- 
tion of  two  mutes  in  very  stiff  neckcloths,  on  duty  at  a  large 
private  door,  with  a  hearse  drawn  by  four  black  steeds,  ap- 
proaching in  the  distance.  The  shop  was  close  and  hot. 
The  atmosphere  seemed  tainted  with  the  smell  of  coffins. 
The  recess  beneath  the  counter  in  which  his  flock  mattress 
was  thrust,  looked  like  a  grave. 

Nor  were  these  the  only  dismal  feelings  which  depressed 
Oliver.     He  was  alone  in  a  strange  place  ;  and  we  all  know 


36  OLIVER  TWIST. 

how  chilled  and  desolate  the  best  of  us  will  sometimes  feel 
in  such  a  situation.  The  boy  had  no  friends  to  care  for,  or 
to  care  for  him.  The  regret  of  no  recent  separation  was 
fresh  in  his  mind  ;  the  absence  of  no  loved  and  well-re- 
membered face  sank  heavily  into  his  heart.  [/But  his  heart 
was  heavy,  notwithstanding  ;  and  he  wished,  as  he  crept  in- 
to his  narrow  bed,  that  that  were  his  coffin,  and  that  he 
could  be  lain  in  a  calm  and  lasting  sleep  in  the  church-yard 
ground,  with  the  tall  grass  waving  gently  above  his  head, 
and  the  sound  of  the  old  deep  bell  to  soothe  him  in  his 
sleep. 

Oliver  was  awakened  in  the  morning,  by  a  loud  kicking  at 
the  outside  of  the  shop-door  :  which,  before  he  could  hud- 
dle on  his  clothes,  was  repeated,  in  an  angry  and  impetuous 
manner,  about  twenty-five  times.  When  he  began  to  undo 
the  chain,  the  legs  desisted,  and  a  voice  began. 

"  Open  the  door,  will  yer  ? "  cried  the  voice  which  be- 
longed to  the  legs  which  had  kicked  at  the  door. 

I  will,  directly,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  undoing  the   chain, 
and  turning  the  key. 

"  I  suppose  yer  the  new  boy,  ain't  yer  ?  "  said  the  voice 
through  the  key-hole. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  How  old  are  yer  ? "  inquired  the  voice. 

"  Ten,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Then  I'll  whop  yer  when  I  get  in,"  said  the  voice  ;  "  you 
just  see  if  I  don't,  that's  all,  my  work'us  brat  !  "  and  having 
made  this  obliging  promise,  the  voice  began  to  whistle. 

Oliver  had  been  too  often  subjected  to  the  process  to  which 
the  very  expressive  monosyllable  just  recorded  bears  refer- 
ence, to  entertain  the  smallest  doubt  that  the  owner  of  the 
voice,  whoever  he  might  be,  would  redeem  his  pledge,  most 
honorably.  He  drew  back:  the  bolts  with  a  trembling  hand, 
and  opened  the  door. 

For  a  second  or  two,  Oliver  glanced  up  the  street,  and 
down  the  street,  and  over  the  way  :  impressed  with  the  be- 
lief that  the  unknown,  who  had  addressed  him  through  the 
key-hole,  had  walked  a  few  paces  off,  to  warm  himself  ;  for 
nobody  did  he  see  but  a  big  charity-boy,  sitting  on  a  post  in 
front  of  the  house,  eating  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter  : 
which  he  cut  into  wedges,  the  size  of  his  mouth,  with  a  clasp- 
knife,  and  then  consumed  with  great  dexterity. 

"J  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Oliver  at  length  :  seeing 


OLIVER  TWIST.  37 

that    no    other    visitor   made    his    appearance  ;    "  did    you 
knock  ?  " 

"I  kicked,"  replied  the  charity-boy. 

"  Did  you  want  a  coffin,  sir  ? "  inquired   Oliver,  innocent- 

At  this  the  charity-boy  looked  monstrous  fierce  ;  and  said 
that  Oliver  would  want  one  before  long,  if  he  cut  jokes 
with  his  superiors  in  that  way. 

"  Yer  don't  know  who  I  am,  I  suppose,  Work'us  ?  "  said 
the  charity-boy,  in  continuation  :  descending  from  the  top  of 
the  post,  meanwhile,  with  edifying  gravity. 

"  No,  sir,"  rejoined  Oliver. 

"  I'm  Mister  Noah  Claypole,"  said  the  charity-boy,  ?  and 
you're  under  me.  Take  down  the  shutters,  yer  idle  young 
ruffian  ! "  With  this,  Mr.  Claypole  administered  a  kick  to 
Oliver,  and  entered  the  shop  with  a  dignified  air,  which  did 
him  great  credit.  It  is  difficult  for  a  large-headed,  small- 
eyed  youth,  of  lumbering  make  and  heavy  countenance,  to 
look  dignified  under  any  circumstances,  but  it  is  more  es- 
pecially so,  when  superadded  to  these  personal  attractions 
are  a  red  nose  and  yellow  smalls. 

Oliver,  having  taken  down  the  shutters,  and  broken  a  pane 
of  glass  in  his  efforts  to  stagger  away  beneath  the  weight  of 
the  first  one  to  a  small  court  at  the  side  of  the  house  in 
which  they  were  kept  during  the  day,  was  graciously  assisted 
by  Noah  :  who,  having  consoled  him  with  the  assurance 
that  "he'd  catch  it,"  condescended  to  help  him.  Mr. 
Sowerberry  came  down  soon  after.  Shortly  afterward,  Mrs. 
Sowerberry  appeared.  Oliver  having  "  caught  it,"  in  fulfill- 
ment of  Noah's  prediction,  followed  that  young  gentleman 
down  the  stairs  to  breakfast. 

"  Come  near  the  fire,  Noah,"  said  Charlotte.  "  I  saved  a 
nice  little  bit  of  bacon  for  you  from  master's  breakfast. 
Oliver,  shut  that  door  at  Mister  Noah's  back,  and  take  them 
bits  that  I've  put  out  on  the  cover  of  the  bread-pan.  There's 
your  tea  ;  take  it  away  to  that  box,  and  drink  it  there,  and 
make  haste,  for  they'll  want  you  to  mind  the  shop.  D'ye 
hear  ? " 

"  D'ye  hear,  Work'us  ?  "  said  Noah  Claypole. 

u  Lor,  Noah  !  "  said  Charlotte,  "  what  a  rum  creature  you 
are  !  Why  don't  you  let  the  boy  alone  ?  " 

"  Let  him  alone  !  "  said  Noah.  "  Why  every  body  lets 
him  alone  enough,  for  the  matter  of  that.     Neither  his  father 


38  JLIVER  TWIST. 

nor  his  mother  will  ever  interfere  with  him.  All  his  relations 
let  him  have  his  own  way  pretty  well.  Eh,  Charlotte  ?  He  i 
he  !  he  !  " 

"Oh,  you  queer  soul!"  said  Charlotte,  bursting  into  a 
hearty  laugh,  in  which  she  was  joined  by  Noah  ;  after  which 
they  both  looked  scornfully  at  poor  Oliver  Twist,  as  he  sat 
shivering  on  the  box  in  the  coldest  corner  of  the  room,  and 
ate  the  stale  pieces  which  had  been  specially  reserved  for 
him. 

Noah  was  a  charity-boy,  but  not  a  work-house  orphan.  No 
chance  child  was  he,  for  he  could  trace  his  genealogy  all  the 
way  back  to  his  parents,  who  lived  hard  by  ;  his  mother  be- 
ing a  washer-woman,  and  his  father  a  drunken  soldier,  dis- 
charged with  a  wooden  leg,  and  a  diurnal  pension  of  two- 
pence-half-penny and  an  unstateable  fraction.  The  shop- 
boys  in  the  neighborhood  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of 
branding  Noah,  in  the  public  streets,  with  the  ignominious 
epithets  of  "leathers,"  "charity,"  and  the  like  ;  and  Noah 
had  borne  them  without  reply.  But,  now  that  fortune  had 
cast  in  his  way  a  nameless  orphan,  at  whom  even  the  meanest 
could  point  the  finger  of  scorn,  he  retorted  on  him  with 
interest.  This  affords  charming  food  for  contemplation.  It 
shows  us  what  a  beautiful  thing  human  nature  may  be  made 
to  be  ;  and  how  impartially  the  same  amiable  qualities  are 
developed  in  the  finest  lord  and  the  dirtiest  charity- 
boy. 

Oliver  had  been  sojourning  at  the  undertaker's  some  three 
weeks  or  a  month.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sowerberry — the  shop 
being  shut  up — were  taking  their  supper  in  the  little  back- 
parlor,  when  Mr.  Sowerberry,  after  several  deferential 
glances  at  his  wife,  said  : 

"  My  dear — "  He  was  going  to  say  more  ;  but,  Mrs. 
Sowerberry  looking  up,  with  a  peculiar  unpropitious  aspect, 
he  stopped  short. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry  sharply. 

"  Nothing,  my  dear,  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Sowerberry. 

"  Ugh,  you  brute  !  "  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sowerberry,  humbly.  "  I 
thought  you  didn't  want  to  hear,  my  dear.  I  was  only  going 
to  say — " 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Sowerberry.  "  I  am  nobody  ;  don't  consult  me, 
pray.     I  don't  want  to  intrude  upon  your  secrets."   As  Mrs. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  39 

Sowerberry  said  this,  she  gave  an  hysterical  laugh,  which 
threatened  violent  consequences. 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  Sowerberry,  "I  want  to  ask  your 
advice." 

"  No,  no,  don't  ask  mine,"  replied  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  in  an 
affecting  manner  :  "  ask  somebody  else's."  Here  there  was 
another  hysterical  laugh,  which  frightened  Mr.  Sowerberry 
very  much.  This  is  a  very  common  and  much-approved 
matrimonial  course  of  treatment,  which  is  often  very  effective. 
It  at  once  reduced  Mr.  Sowerberry  to  begging,  as  a  special 
favor,  to  be  allowed  to  say  what  Mrs.  Sowerberry  was  most 
curious  to  hear.  After  a  short  altercation  of  less  than  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour's  duration,  the  permission  was  most 
graciously  conceded. 

"  It's  only  about  young  Twist,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sower- 
berry.    "  A  very  good-looking  boy,  that,  my  dear." 

"  He  need  be,  for  he  eats  enough,"  observed  the  lady. 

"There's  an  expression  of  melancholy  in  his  face  my 
dear,"  resumed  Mr.  Sowerberry,  "  which  is  very  interesting. 
He  would  make  a  delightful  mute,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Sowerberry  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  con- 
siderable wonderment.  Mr.  Sowerberry  remarked  it  ;  and, 
without  allowing  time  for  any  observation  on  the  good  lady's 
part,  proceeded. 

"  I  don't  mean  a  regular  mute  to  attend  grown-up  people, 
my  dear,  but  only  for  children's  practice.  It  would  be  very 
new  to  have  a  mute  in  proportion,  my  dear.  You  may  de- 
pend upon  it,  it  would  have  a  superb  effect." 

Mrs.  Sowerberry,  who  had  a  good  deal  of  taste  in  the 
undertaking  way,  was  much  struck  by  the  novelty  of  this 
idea  ;  but,  as  it  would  have  been  compromising  her  dignity 
to  have  said  so,  under  existing  circumstances,  she  merely  in- 
quired, with  much  sharpness,  why  such  an  obvious  sugges- 
tion had  not  presented  itself  to  her  husband's  mind  before  ? 
Mr.  Sowerberry  rightly  construed  this  as  an  acquiescence  in 
his  proposition  ;  it  was  speedily  determined,  therefore,  that 
Oliver  should  be  at  once  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
trade  ;  and,  with  this  view,  that  he  should  accompany  his 
master  on  the  very  next  occasion  of  his  services  being  re- 
quired. 

The  occasion  was  not  long  in  coming.  Half  an  hour  after 
breakfast  next  morning,  Mr.  Bumble  entered  the  shop  ;  and 
supporting  his  cane  against  the  counter,  drew  forth  his  large 


4o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

leathern  pocket-book,  from  which  he  selected  a  small  scrap 
of  paper,  which  he  handed  over  to  Sowerberry. 

"Aha,"  said  the  undertaker,  glancing  over  it  with  a  lively- 
countenance  ;  "  an  order  for  a  coffin,  eh  ?  " 

"  For  a  coffin  first,  and  a  porochial  funeral  afterward,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Bumble,  fastening  the  strap  of  the  leathern  pocket- 
book,  which,  like  himself,  was  very  corpulent. 

"  Bayton,"  said  the  undertaker,  looking  from  the  scrap  of 
paper  to  Mr.  Bumble.     "  I  never  heard  the  name  before," 

Bumble  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied,  "  Obstinate  people, 
Mr.  Sowerberry  ;  very  obstinate.  Proud,  too,  I'm  afraid, 
sir." 

"  Proud,  eh  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sowerberry,  with  a  sneer. 
"Come,  that's  too  much." 

"Oh,  it's  sickening,"  replied  the  beadle.  "Antimonial, 
Mr.  Sowerberry  !  " 

"So  it  is,"  acquiesced  the  undertaker. 

"We  only  heard  of  the  family  the  night  before  last,"  said 
the  beadle  ;  "  and  we  shouldn't  have  known  any  thing  about 
them,  then,  only  a  woman  who  lodges  in  the  same  house  made 
an  application  to  the  porochial  committee  for  them  to  send 
the  porochial  surgeon  to  see  a  woman  as  was  very  bad.  He 
had  gone  out  to  dinner  ;  but  his  'prentice  (which  is  a  very 
clever  lad)  sent  'em  some  medicine  in  a  blacking-bottle,  off- 
hand." 

"  Ah,  there's  promptness,"  said  the  undertaker. 

"  Promptness,  indeed  !  "  replied  the  beadle.  "  But  what's 
the  consequence  ;  what's  the  ungrateful  behavior  of  these 
rebels,  sir  ?  Why,  the  husband  sends  back  word  that  the 
medicine  won't  suit  his  wife's  complaint,  and  so  she  shan't 
take  it — says  she  shan't  take  it,  sir.  Good,  strong,  whole- 
some medicine,  as  was  given  with  great  success  to  two  Irish 
laborers  and  a  coal-heaver  only  a  week  before — sent  'em  for 
nothing,  with  a  blacking-bottle  in — and  he  sends  back  word 
that  she  shan't  take  it,  sir  !  " 

As  the  atrocity  presented  itself  to  Mr.  Bumble's  mind  in 
full  force,  he  struck  the  counter  sharply  with  his  cane,  and 
became  flushed  with  indignation. 

"Well,"  said  the  undertaker,  "I  ne — ver — did — " 

"  Never  did,  sir  !  "  ejaculated  the  beadle.  "  No,  nor  nobody 
never  did  ;  but,  now  she's  dead,  we've  got  to  bury  her  ;  and 
that's  the  direction  ;  and  the  sooner  it's  done,  the  better." 

Thus  saying,  Mr.  Bumble  put  on  his  cocked  hat  wrong 


J 


OLIVER  TWIST.  41 

side  first,  in  a  fever  of  parochial  excitement,  and  flounced 
out  of  the  shop. 

"  Why,  he  was  so  angry,  Oliver,  that  he  forgot  even  to  ask 
after  you  !  "  said  Mr.  Sowerberry,  looking  after  the  beadle 
as  he  strode  down  the  street. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  who  had  carefully  kept  himself 
out  of  sight  during  the  interview  ;  and  who  was  shaking  from 
head  to  foot  at  the  mere  recollection  of  the  sound  of  Mr. 
Bumble's  voice.  He  needn't  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
shrink  from  Mr.  Bumble's  glance,  however  ;  for  that  func- 
tionary, on  whom  the  prediction  of  the  gentleman  in  the 
white  waistcoat  had  made  a  very  strong  impression,  thought 
that  now  the  undertaker  had  got  Oliver  upon  trial  the  sub- 
ject was  better  avoided,  until  such  time  as  he  should  be  firmly 
bound  for  seven  years,  and  all  danger  of  his  being  returned 
upon  the  hands  of  the  parish  should  be  thus  effectually  and 
legally  overcome. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Sowerberry,  taking  up  his  hat,  "  the 
sooner  this  job  is  done,  the  better.  Noah,  look  after  the 
shop.  Oliver,  put  on  your  cap  and  come  with  me." 
Oliver  obeyed,  and  followed  his  master  on  his  professional 
mission. 

They  walked  on  for  some  time  through  the  most  crowded 
and  densely  inhabited  part  of  the  town  ;  and  then,  striking 
down  a  narrow  street  more  dirty  and  miserable  than  any  they 
had  yet  passed  through,  paused  to  look  for  the  house  which 
was  the  object  of  their  search.  The  houses  on  either  side 
were  high  and  large,  but  very  old,  and  tenanted  by  people 
of  the  poorest  class  :  as  their  neglected  appearance  would 
have  sufficiently  denoted,  without  the  concurrent  testimony 
afforded  by  the  squalid  looks  of  the  few  men  and  women 
who,  with  folded  arms  and  bodies  half  double,  occasionally 
skulked  along.  A  great  many  of  the  tenements  had  shop- 
fronts  ;  but  these  were  fast  closed,  and  molding  away  ;  only 
the  upper  rooms  being  inhabited.  Some  houses,  which  had 
become  insecure  from  age  and  decay,  were  prevented  from 
falling  into  the  street  by  huge  beams  of  wood  reared  against 
the  walls,  and  firmly  planted  in  the  road  ;  but  even  these 
crazy  dens  seemed  to  have  been  selected  as  the  nightly 
haunts  of  some  houseless  wretches,  for  many  of  the  rough 
boards  which  supplied  the  place  of  door  and  window^  were 
wrenched  from  their  positions,  to  afford  an  aperture  wide 
enough  for  the  passage  of  a  human  body.     The  kennel  was 


42  OLIVER  TWIST. 

stagnant  and  filthy.  The  very  rats,  which  here  and  there  lay 
putrefying  in  its  rottenness,  were  hideous  with  famine. 

There  was  neither  knocker  nor  bell-handle  at  the  open 
door  where  Oliver  and  his  master  stopped  ;  so,  groping  his 
way  cautiously  through  the  dark  passage,  and  bidding  Oliver 
keep  close  to  him  and  not  be  afraid,  the  undertaker  mounted 
to  the  top  of  the  first  flight  of  stairs.  Stumbling  against  a 
door  on  the  landing,  he  rapped  at  it  with  his  knuckles. 

It  was  opened  by  a  young  girl  of  thirteen  or  fourteen. 
The  undertaker  at  once  saw  enough  of  what  the  room  con- 
tained, to  know  it  was  the  apartment  to  which  he  had  been 
directed.     He  stepped  in  ;  Oliver  followed  him. 

There  was  no  fire  in  the  room  ;  but  a  man  was  crouching, 
mechanically,  over  the  empty  stove.  An  old  woman,  too,  had 
drawn  a  low  stool  to  the  cold  hearth,  and  was  sitting  beside 
him.  There  were  some  ragged  children  in  another  corner  ; 
and  in  a  small  recess,  opposite  the  door,  there  lay  upon  the 
ground  something  covered  with  an  old  blanket.  Oliver 
shuddered  as  he  cast  his  eyes  toward  the  place  and  crept  in- 
voluntarily closer  to  his  master  ;  for  though  it  was  covered 
up,  the  boy  felt  that  it  was  a  corpse. 

The  man's  face  was  thin  and  very  pale  ;  his  hair  and 
beard  were  grizzly  ;  his  eyes  were  bloodshot.  The  old 
woman's  face  was  wrinkled  ;  her  two  remaining  teeth  pro- 
truded over  her  under  lip  ;  and  her  eyes  were  bright  and 
piercing.  Oliver  was  afraid  to  look  at  either  her  or  the  man. 
They  seemed  so  like  the  rats  he  had  seen  outside. 

"  Nobody  shall  go  near  her,"  said  the  man,  starting  fiercely 
up,  as  the  undertaker  approached  the  recess.  "  Keep  back  ! 
Damn  you,  keep  back,  if  you've  a  life  to  lose  ! " 

"Nonsense,  my  good  man,"  said  the  undertaker,  who  was 
pretty  well  used  to  misery  in  all  its  shapes.      "  Nonsense  !  " 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  the  man,  clenching  his  hands,  and 
stamping  furiously  on  the  floor — "  I  tell  you  I  won't  have 
her  put  into  the  ground.  She  couldn't  rest  there.  The 
worms  would  worry  her — not  eat  her — she  is  so  worn  away." 

The  undertaker  offered  no  reply  to  this  raving  ;  but  pro- 
ducing a  tape  from  his  pocket,  kneeled  down  for  a  moment 
by  the  side  of  the  body. 

"Ah  !  "  said  the  man  :  bursting  into  tears,  and  sinking  on 
his  knees  at  the  feet  of  the  dead  woman  ;  "  kneel  down,  kneel 
down — kneel  round  her,  every  one  of  you,  and  mark  my 
words  !     I  say  she  was  starved  to  death.    I  never  knew  how 


OLIVER  TWIST.  43 

bad  she  was,  till  the  fever  came  upon  her  ;  and  then  her 
bones  were  starting  through  the  skin.  There  was  neither 
fire  nor  candle  ;  she  died  in  the  dark — in  the  dark  !  She 
couldn't  even  see  her  children's  faces,  though  we  heard  her 
gasping  out  their  names.  I  begged  for  her  in  the  streets  ; 
and  they  sent  me  to  prison.  When  I  came  back,  she  was 
dying  ;  and  all  the  blood  in  my  heart  has  dried  up,  for  they 
starved  her  to  death.  I  swear  it  before  the  God  that  saw  it  ! 
They  starved  her  !"  He  twined  his  hands  in  his  hair  ;  and, 
with  a  loud  scream,  rolled  groveling  upon  the  floor  :  his  eyes 
fixed,  and  the  foam  covering  his  lips. 

The  terrified  children  cried  bitterly  ;  but  the  old  woman, 
who  had  hitherto  remained  as  quiet  as  if  she  had  been,  wholly 
deaf  to  all  that  passed,  menaced  them  into  silence.  Having 
unloosed  the  cravat  of  the  man  who  still  remained  extended 
on  the  ground,  she  tottered  toward  the  undertaker. 

"  She  was  my  daughter,"  said  the  old  woman,  nodding  her 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  corpse,  and  speaking  with  an 
idiotic  leer,  more  ghastly  than  even  the  presence  of  death  in 
such  a  place.  "  Lord,  Lord  !  Well,  it  is  strange  that  I  who 
gave  birth  to  her,  and  was  a  woman  then,  should  be  alive 
and  merry  now,  and  she  lying  there  :  so  cold  and  stiff  ! 
Lord,  Lord  ! — to  think  of  it  ;  it's  as  good  as  a  play — as  good 
as  a  play  !  " 

As  the  wretched  creature  mumbled  and  chuckled  in  her 
hideous  merriment,  the  undertaker  turned  to  go  away. 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  said  the  old  woman  in  a  loud  whisper. 
"  Will  she  be  buried  to-morrow,  or  next  day,  or  to-night  ?  I 
laid  her  out  ;  and  I  must  walk,  you  know.  Send  me  a  laige 
cloak  :  a  good  warm  one  :  for  it  is  bitter  cold.  We  should 
have  cake  and  wine,  too,  before  we  go  !  Never  mind  ;  send 
some  bread — only  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  water. 
Shall  we  have  some  bread,  dear  ?"  she  said  eagerly,  catching 
at  the  undertaker's  coat,  as  he  once  more  moved  toward  the 
door. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  undertaker,  "  of  course.  Any  thing 
you  like  !"  He  disengaged  himself  from  the  old  woman's 
grasp  ;  and,  drawing  Oliver  after  him,  hurried  away. 

#The  next  day  (the  family  having  been  meanwhile  relieved 
with  a  half-quartern  loaf  and  a  piece  of  cheese,  left  with 
them  by  Mr.  Bumble  himself),  Oliver  and  his  master  re- 
turned to  the  miserable  abode  ;  where  Mr.  Bumble  had 
already  arrived,  accompanied  by  four  men  from  the  work- 


44  OLIVER  TWIST. 

house,  who  were  to  act  as  bearers.  An  old  black  cloak  had 
been  thrown  over  the  rags  of  the  old  woman  and  the  man;  and 
the  bare  coffin  having  been  screwed  down,  was  hoisted  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  bearers,  and  carried  into  the  street. 

"  Now  you  must  put  your  best  leg  foremost,  old  lady  !  " 
whispered  Sowerberry  in  the  old  woman's  ear;  "we  are 
rather  late  ;  and  it  won't  do  to  keep  the  clergyman  waiting. 
Move  on,  my  men — as  quick  as  you  like  !  " 

Thus  directed,  the  bearers  trotted  on  under  their  light 
burden  ;  and  the  two  mourners  kept  as  near  them  as  they 
could.  Mr.  Bumble  and  Sowerberry  walked  at  a  good  smart 
pace  in  front  ;  and  Oliver,  whose  legs  were  not  so  long  as 
his  master's,  ran  by  the  side. 

There  was  not  so  great  a  necessity  for  hurrying  as  Mr. 
Sowerberry  had  anticipated,  however  ;  for  when  they 
reached  the  obscure  corner  of  the  church-yard  in  which  the 
nettles  grew,  and  where  the  parish  graves  were  made,  the 
clergyman  had  not  arrived  ;  and  the  clerk,  who  was  sitting 
by  the  vestry-room  fire,  seemed  to  think  it  by  no  means 
improbable  that  it  might  be  an  hour  or  so  before  he  came. 
So  they  put  the  bier  on  the  brink  of  the  grave  ;  and  the 
two  mourners  waited  patiently  in  the  damp  clay,  with  a  cold 
rain  drizzling  down,  while  the  ragged  boys  whom  the  spec- 
tacle had  attracted  into  the  church-yard  played  a  noisy  game 
at  hide-and-seek  among  the  tomb-stones,  or  varied  their 
amusements  by  jumping  backward  and  forward  over  the 
coffin.  Mr.  Sowerberry  and  Bumble,  being  personal  friends 
of  the  clerk,  sat  by  the  fire  with  him  and  read  the 
paper. 

At  length,  after  a  lapse  of  something  more  than  an  hour, 
Mr.  Bumble,  and  Sowerberry,  and  the  clerk,  were  seen  run- 
ning toward  the  grave.  Immediately  afterward,  the  clergy- 
man appeared,  putting  on  his  surplice  as  he  came  along. 
Mr.  Bumble  then  thrashed  a  boy  or  two,  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances ;  and  the  reverend  gentleman,  having  read  as  much  of 
the  burial  service  as  could  be  compressed  into  four  minutes, 
gave  his  surplice  to  the  clerk,  and  walked  away  again. 

"  Now,  Bill  !  "  said  Sowerberry  to  the  grave  digger.  "  Fill 
up  !  " 

It  was  no  very  difficult  task  ;  for  the  grave  was  so  full, 
that  the  uppermost  coffin  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  sur- 
face. The  grave-digger  shoveled  in  the  earth  :  stamped  it 
loosely  down   with   his   feet ;  shouldered   his   spade  ;  and 


f  m 


OLIVER  TWIST.  45 

walked  off,  followed  by  the  boys,  who  murmured  very  loud 
complaints  at  the  fun  being  over  so  soon. 

"  Come,  my  good  fellow  !  "  said  Bumble,  tapping  the  man 
om  the  back.     "  They  want  to  shut  up  the  yard." 

The  man,  who  had  never  once  moved  since  he  had  taken 
his  station  by  the  grave-side,  started,  raised  his  head,  stared 
at  the  person  who  had  addressed  him,  walked  forward  for  a 
few  paces,  and  fell  down  in  a  swoon.  The  crazy  old  woman 
was  too  much  occupied  in  bewailing  the  loss  of  her  cloak 
(which  the  undertaker  had  taken  off)  to  pay  him  any  atten- 
tion ;  so  they  threw  a  can  of  cold  water  over  him  ;  and 
when  he  came  to,  saw  him  safely  out  of  the  church-yard, 
locked  the  gate,  and  departed  on  their  different  ways. 

"  Well,  Oliver,"  said  Sowerberry,  as  they  walked  home, 
"  how  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  with  consider- 
able hesitation.     "Not  very  much,  sir." 

"  Ah,  you'll  get  used  to  it  in  time,  Oliver,"  said  Sower- 
berry.     "  Nothing  when  you  are  used  to  it,  my  boy." 

Oliver  wondered,  in  his  own  mind,  whether  it  had  taken  a 
very  long  time  to  get  Mr.  Sowerberry  used  to  it.  But  he 
thought  it  better  not  to  ask  the  question  ;  and  walked  back 
to  the  shop,  thinking  over  all  he  had  seen  and  heard. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

OLIVER,    BEING    GOADED    BY  THE  TAUNTS    OF    NOAH,  ROUSES 
INTO    ACTION,    AND    RATHER    ASTONISHES    HIM. 

The  month's  trial  over,  Oliver  was  formally  apprenticed. 
It  was  a  nice  sickly  season  just  at  this  time.  In  commercial 
phrase,  coffins  were  looking  up  ;  and,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
weeks,  Oliver  acquired  a  great  deal  of  experience.  The 
success  of  Mr.  Sowerberry's  ingenious  speculation  exceeded 
even  his  most  sanguine  hopes.  The  oldest  inhabitants 
recollected  no  period  at  which  measles  had  been  so  prev- 
alent, or  so  fatal  to  infant  existence  ;  and  many  were  the 
mournful  processions  which  little  Oliver  headed,  in  a  hat- 
band reaching  down  to  his  knees,  to  the  indescribable  admira- 
tion and  emotion  of  all  the  mothers  in  the  town.  As  Oliver 
accompanied  his  master  in  most  of  his  adult  expeditions,  too, 


46  OLIVER  TWIST. 

in  order  that  he  might  acquire  that  equanimity  of  demeanor 
and  full  command  of  nerve  which  are  essential  to  a  finished 
undertaker,  he  had  many  opportunities  of  observing  the 
beautiful  resignation  and  fortitude  with  which  some  strong- 
minded  people  bear  their  trials  and  losses. 

For  instance,  when  Sowerberry  had  an  order  for  the 
burial  of  some  rich  old  lady  or  gentleman,  who  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  great  number  of  nephews  and  nieces,  who  had 
been  perfectly  inconsolable  during  the  previous  illness,  and 
whose  grief  had  been  wholly  irrepressible  even  on  the  most 
public  occasions,  they  would  be  as  happy  among  themselves 
as  need  be — quite  cheerful  and  contented — conversing  to- 
gether with  as  much  freedom  and  gayety,  as  if  nothing  what- 
ever had  happened  to  disturb  them.  Husbands,  too,  bore 
the  loss  of  their  wives  with  the  most  heroic  calmness. 
Wives,  again,  put  on  weeds  for  their  husbands,  as  if,  so  far 
from  grieving  in  the  garb  of  sorrow,  they  had  made  up  their 
minds  to  render  it  as  becoming  and  attractive  as  possible. 
It  was  observable,  too,  that  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  were 
in  passions  of  anguish  during  the  ceremony  of  interment, 
recovered  almost  as  soon  as  they  reached  home,  and  became 
quite  composed  before  the  tea-drinking  was  over.  All  this 
was  very  pleasant  and  improving  to  see  ;  and  Oliver  beheld 
it  with  great  admiration. 

That  Oliver  Twist  was  moved  to  resignation  by  the 
example  of  these  good  people,  I  can  not,  although  I  am  his 
biographer,  undertake  to  affirm  with  any  degree  of  confi- 
dence ;  but  I  can  most  distinctly  say,  that  for  many  months 
he  continued  meekly  to  submit  to  the  domination  and  ill- 
treatment  of  Noah  Claypole  :  who  used  him  far  worse  than 
before,  now  that  his  jealousy  was  roused  by  seeing  the  new 
boy  promoted  to  the  black  stick  and  hat-band,  while  he,  the 
old  one,  remained  stationary  in  the  muffin-cap  and  leathers. 
Charlotte  treated  him  ill,  because  Noah  did  ;  and  Mrs.  Sower- 
berry  was  his  decided  enemy,  because  Mr.  Sowerberry  was 
disposed  to  be  his  friend  ;  so,  between  these  three  on  one 
side,  and  a  glut  of  funerals  on  the  other,  Oliver  was  not  alto- 
gether as  comfortable  as  the  hungry  pig  was  when  he  was 
shut  up,  by  mistake,  in  the  grain  department  of  a  brewery. 

And  now  I  come  to  a  very  important  passage  in  Oliver's 
history  ;  for  I  have  to  record  an  act  slight  and  unimportant 
perhaps  in  appearance,  but  which  indirectly  produced  a 
material  change  in  all  his  future  prospects  and  proceedings, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  47 

One  day,  Oliver  and  Noah  had  descended  into  the  kitchen 
at  the  usual  dinner-hour,  to  banquet  upon  a  small  joint  of 
mutton — a  pound  and  a  half  of  the  worst  end  of  the  neck — 
when  Charlotte  being  called  out  of  the  way,  there  ensued  a 
brief  interval  of  time,  which  Noah  Claypole,  being  hungry 
and  vicious,  considered  he  could  not  possibly  devote  to  a 
worthier  purpose  than  aggravating  and  tantalizing  young 
Oliver  Twist. 

Intent  upon  this  innocent  amusement,  Noah  put  his  feet 
on  the  table-cloth  ;  and  pulled  Oliver's  hair  ;  and  twitched 
his  ears  ;  and  expressed  his  opinion  that  he  was  a  "  sneak  ;  " 
and  furthermore  announced  his  intention  of  coming  to  see 
him  hanged,  whenever  that  desirable  event  should  take  place: 
and  entered  upon  various  other  topics  of  petty  annoyance,  like 
a  malicious  and  ill-conditioned  charity-boy  as  he  was.  But, 
none  of  these  taunts  producing  the  desired  effect  of  making 
Oliver  cry,  Noah  attempted  to  be  more  facetious  still ;  and 
in  this  attempt,  did  what  many  small  wits,  with  far  greater 
reputations  than  Noah,  sometimes  do  to  this  day,  when  they 
want  to  be  funny.     He  got  rather  personal. 

"  Work'us,"  said  Noah,  "  how's  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She's  dead,"  replied  Oliver  ;  "  don't  you  say  any  thing 
about  her  to  me  !  " 

Oliver's  color  rose  as  he  said  this  ;  he  breathed  quickly  ; 
and  there  was  a  curious  working  of  the  mouth  and  nostrils, 
which  Mr.  Claypole  thought  must  be  the  immediate  precursor 
of  a  violent  fit  of  crying.  Under  this  impression  he  returned 
to  the  charge. 

"  What  did  she  die  of,  Work'us  ? "  said  Noah. 

"  Of  a  broken  heart,  some  of  our  old  nurses  told  me," 
replied  Oliver  :  more  as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself  than 
answering  Noah.  "  I  think  I  know  what  it  must  be  to  die  of 
that  !  " 

"  Tol  de  rol  lol  lol,  right  fol  lairy,  Work'us,"  said  Noah, 
as  a  tear  rolled  down  Oliver's  cheek.  "  What's  set  you  a 
sniveling  now  ?  " 

"  Not  you,"  replied  Oliver,  hastily  brushing  the  tear  away. 
"Don't  think  it." 

"  Oh,  not  me,  eh  ?  "  sneered  Noah. 

"  No,  not  you,"  replied  Oliver  sharply.  "  There,  that's 
enough.  Don't  say  any  thing  more  to  me  about  her  ;  you'd 
better  not." 

"  Better  not !  "   exclaimed   Noah.      "  Well !  Better  not  ! 


48  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Work'us,  don't  be  impudent.  Your  mother  too  !  She  was  a 
nice  'un,  she  was.  Oh,  Lor  !  "  And  here  Noah  nodded  his 
head  expressively  ;  and  curled  up  as  much  of  his  small  red 
nose  as  muscular  action  could  collect  together  for  the  occa- 
sion. 

"Yer  know,  Work'us,"  continued  Noah,  emboldened  by 
Oliver's  silence,  and  speaking  in  a  jeering  tone  of  affected 
pity — of  all  tones  the  most  annoying — "  Yer  know,  Work'us, 
it  can't  be  helped  now  ;  and  of  course  yer  couldn't  help  it 
then  ;  and  I'm  very  sorry  for  it  ;  and  I'm  sure  we  all  are, 
and  pity  yer  very  much.  But  yer  must  know,  Work'us,  yer 
mother  was  a  regular  right  down  bad  'un." 

"What  did  you  say?"  inquired  Oliver,  looking  up  very 
quickly. 

"  A  regular  right  down  bad  'un,  Work'us,"  replied  Noah, 
coolly.  "  And  it's  a  great  deal  better,  Work'us,  that  she 
died  when  she  did,  or  else  she'd  have  been  hard  laboring  in 
Bridewell,  or  transported,  or  hung  ;  which  is  more  likely 
than  either,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Crimson  with  fury,  Oliver  started  up  ;  overthrew  the  chair 
and  table  ;  seized  Noah  by  the  throat ;  shook  him  in  the 
violence  of  his  rage,  till  his  teeth  chattered  in  his  head  ; 
and  collecting  his  whole  force  into  one  heavy  blow,  felled 
him  to  the  ground. 

A  minute  ago,  the  boy  had  looked  the  quiet,  mild,  de- 
jected creature  that  harsh  treatment  had  made  him.  But 
his  spirit  was  roused  at  last ;  the  cruel  insult  to  his  dead 
mother  had  set  his  blood  on  fire.  His  breast  heaved  ;  his 
attitude  was  erect ;  his  eye  bright  and  vivid  ;  his  whole  per- 
son changed,  as  he  stood  glaring  over  the  cowardly  tormen- 
tor who  now  lay  crouching  at  his  feet  ;  and  defied  him  with 
an  energy  he  had  never  known  before. 

"  He'll  murder  me  !  "  blubbered  Noah.  "  Charlotte  ! 
missis  !  Here's  the  new  boy  a  murdering  of  me  !  Help  ! 
help  !     Oliver's  gone  mad  !     Char — lotte  !  " 

Noah's  shouts  were  responded  to  by  a  loud  scream  from 
Charlotte  and  a  louder  from  Mrs.  Sowerberry ;  the  former 
of  whom  rushed  into  the  kitchen  by  a  side  door,  while  the 
latter  paused  on  the  staircase  till  she  was  quite  certain  that 
it  was  consistent  with  the  preservation  of  human  life  to 
come  further  down. 

"  Oh,  you  little  wretch  !  "  screamed  Charlotte,  seizing 
Oliver  with  her  utmost  force,  which  was  about  equal  to  that 


OLIVER  TWIST.  49 

of  a  moderately  strong  man  in  particularly  good  training. 
"  Oh,  you  little  un-grate-ful,  mur-de-rous,  hor-rid  villain  !" 
And  between  every  syllable  Charlotte  gave  Oliver  a  blow 
with  all  her  might,  accompanying  it  with  a  scream  for  the 
benefit  of  society. 

Charlotte's  fist  was  by  no  means  a  light  one  ;  but  lest  it 
should  not  be  effectual  in  calming  Oliver's  wrath,  Mrs. 
Sowerberry  plunged  into  the  kitchen,  and  assisted  to  hold 
him  with  one  hand,  while  she  scratched  his  face  with  the 
other.  In  this  favorable  position  of  affairs,  Noah  rose  from 
the  ground,  and  pommeled  him  behind. 

This  was  rather  too  violent  exercise  to  last  long.  When 
they  were  all  wearied  out,  and  could  tear  and  beat  no 
longer,  they  dragged  Oliver,  struggling  and  shouting,  but 
nothing  daunted,  into  the  dust-cellar,  and  .there  locked  him 
up.  This  being  done,  Mrs.  Sowerberry  sunk  into  a  chair, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Bless  her,  she's  going  off  !  "  said  Charlotte.  "  A  glass 
of  water,  Noah,  dear.     Make  haste  !  " 

"  Oh  !  Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry  :  speaking  as 
well  as  she  could,  through  a  deficiency  of  breath,  and  a  suf- 
ficiency of  cold  water,  which  Noah  had  poured  over  her 
head  and  shoulders.  "  Oh  !  Charlotte,  what  a  mercy  we 
have  not  all  been  murdered  in  our  beds  !  " 

"  Ah  !  mercy  indeed,  ma'am,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  only 
hope  this'll  teach  master  not  to  have  any  more  of  these 
dreadful  creatures,  that  are  born  to  be  murderers  and  rob- 
bers from  their  very  cradle.  Poor  Noah  !  he  was  all  but 
killed,  ma'am,  when  I  come  in." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  looking  piteously 
on  the  charity-boy. 

Noah,  whose  top  waistcoat-button  might  have  been  some- 
where on  a  level  with  the  crown  of  Oliver's  head,  rubbed 
his  eyes  with  the  inside  of  his  wrists  while  this  commisera- 
tion was  bestowed  upon  him,  and  performed  some  affecting 
tears  and  sniffs. 

"  What's  to  be  done ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sowerberry. 
"  Your  master's  not  at  home  ;  there's  not  a  man  in  the 
house,  and  he'll  kick  that  door  down  in  ten  minutes." 
Oliver's  vigorous  plunges  against  the  bit  of  timber  in  ques- 
tion rendered  this  occurrence  highly  probable. 

"  Dear,  dear !  I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  said  Charlotte, 
"unless  we  send  for  the  police  officers." 


£o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Or  the  millingtary,"  suggested  Mr.  Claypole. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Sovverberry  :  bethinking  herself  of 
Oliver's  old  friend.  "  Run  to  Mr.  Bumble,  Noah,  and  tell 
him  to  come  here  directly,  and  not  to  lose  a  minute  ;  never 
mind  your  cap  !  Make  haste  !  You  can  hold  a  knife  to 
that  black  eye,  as  you  run  along.  It'll  keep  the  swelling 
down." 

Noah  stopped  to  make  no  reply,  but  started  off  at  his 
fullest  speed  ;  and  very  much  it  astonished  the  people  who 
were  out  walking,  to  see  a  charity-boy  tearing  through  the 
streets  pell-mell,  with  no  cap  on  his  head,  and  a  clasp  knife 
at  his  eye. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OLIVER   CONTINUES   REFRACTORY. 

Noah  Claypole  ran  along  the  streets  at  his  swiftest  pace, 
and  paused  not  once  for  breath  until  he  reached  the  work- 
house gate.  Having  rested  here,  for  a  minute  or  so,  to  col- 
lect a  good  burst  of  sobs  and  an  imposing  show  of  tears 
and  terror,  he  knocked  loudly  at  the  wicket ;  and  presented 
such  a  rueful  face  to  the  aged  pauper  who  opened  it,  that 
even  he,  who  saw  nothing  but  rueful  faces  about  him  at  the 
best  of  times,  started  back  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  the  boy  ?  "  said  the  old 
pauper. 

"  Mr.  Bumble  !  Mr.  Bumble  !  "  cried  Noah,  with  well- 
affected  dismay,  and  in  tones  so  loud  and  agitated,  that  they 
not  only  caught  the  ear  of  Mr.  Bumble  himself,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  hard  by,  but  alarmed  him  so  much  that  he 
rushed  into  the  yard  without  his  cocked  hat — which  is  a 
very  curious  and  remarkable  circumstance,  as  showing  that 
even  a  beadle,  acted  upon  by  a  sudden  and  powerful  im- 
pulse, may  be  afflicted  with  a  momentary  visitation  of  loss 
of  self-possession,  and  forgetfulness  of  personal  dignity. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bumble,  sir  !  "  said  Noah.  "  Oliver,  sir— Oliver 
has—" 

"  What  ?  What  ?  "  interposed  Mr.  Bumble,  with  a  gleam 
of  pleasure  in  his  metallic  eyes.  "  Not  run  away  ;  he 
hasn't  run  away,  has  he,  Noah  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  no.  Not  run  away,  sir,  but  he's  turned  wicious," 


OLIVER   TWIST.  St 

replied  Noah.  "  He  tried  to  murder  me,  sir  ;  and  then  he 
tried  to  murder  Charlotte  ;  and  then  missis.  Oh  !  what 
dreadful  pain  it  is  !  Such  agony,  please,  sir  !  "  And  here 
Noah  writhed  and  twisted  his  body  into  an  extensive 
variety  of  eel-like  positions,  thereby  giving  Mr.  Bumble  to 
understand  that,  from  the  violent  and  sanguinary  onset  of 
Oliver  Twist,  he  had  sustained  severe  internal  injury  and 
damage,  from  which  he  was  at  that  moment  suffering  the 
acutest  torture. 

When  Noah  saw  that  the  intelligence  he  communicated 
perfectly  paralyzed  Mr.  Bumble,  he  imparted  additional 
effect  thereunto,  by  bewailing  his  dreadful  wounds  ten 
times  louder  than  before  ;  and  when  he  observed  a  gentle- 
man in  a  white  waistcoat  crossing  the  yard,  he  was  more 
tragic  in  his  lamentations  than  ever,  rightly  conceiving  it 
highly  expedient  to  attract  the  notice,  and  rouse  the  indig- 
nation, of  the  gentleman  aforesaid. 

The  gentleman's  notice  was  very  soon  attracted  ;  for  he 
had  not  walked  three  paces,  when  he  turned  angrily  round 
and  inquired  what  that  young  cur  was  howling  for,  and  why 
Mr.  Bumble  did  not  favor  him  with  something  which  would 
render  the  series  of  vocular  exclamations  so  designated  an 
involuntary  process  ? 

"  It's  a  poor  boy  from  the  free-school,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Bumble,  "who  has  been  nearly  murdered — all  but  mur- 
dered, sir — by  young  Twist." 

"  By  Jove  !  "  exclaimed  the  gentleman  in  the  white  waist- 
coat, stopping  short.  "  I  knew  it  !  I  felt  a  strange  pre- 
sentiment from  the  very  first,  that  that  audacious  young 
savage  would  come  to  be  hung  ! " 

"  He  has  likewise  attempted,  sir,  to  murder  the  female 
servant,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  with  a  face  of  ashy  paleness. 

"  And  his  missis,"  interposed  Mr.  Claypole, 

"And  his  master,  too,  I  think  you  said,  Noah  ?"  added 
Mr.  Bumble. 

"  No  !  he's  out,  or  he  would  have  murdered  him,"  replied 
Noah.     "  He  said  he  wanted  to." 

"Ah  !  Said  he  wanted  to,  did  he,  my  boy  ?"  inquired  the 
gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Noah.  "And  please,  sir,  missis  wants 
to  know  whether  Mr.  Bumble  can  spare  time  to  step  up 
there,  directly,  and  flog  him — 'cause  master's  out." 

"  Certainly,  my  boy  ;  certainly,"  said  the   gentleman  in 


52  OLIVER  TWIST. 

the  white  waistcoat,  smiling  benignly,  and  patting  Noah's 
head,  which  was  about  three  inches  higher  than  his  own. 
"  You're  a  good  boy — a  very  good  boy.  Here's  a  penny  for 
you.  Bumble,  just  step  up  to  Sowerberry's  with  your  cane, 
and  see  what's  best  to  be  done.    Don't  spare  him,  Bumble." 

"  No,  I  will  not,  sir,"  replied  the  beadle  :  adjusting  the 
wax-end  which  was  twisted  round  the  bottom  of  his  cane, 
for  purposes  of  parochial  flag*  Ration. 

"  Tell  Sowerberry  not  to  spare  him  either.  They'll  never 
do  any  thing  with  him,  without  stripes  and  bruises,"  said  the 
gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat. 

"  I'll  take  care,  sir,"  replied  the  beadle.  And  the  cocked 
hat  and  cane  having  been,  by  this  time,  adjusted  to  their 
owner's  satisfaction,  Mr.  Bumble  ajid  Noah  Claypole  be- 
took themselves  with  all  speed  to  the  undertaker's  shop. 

Here  the  position  of  affairs  had  not  at  all  improved. 
Sowerberry  had  not  yet  returned,  and  Oliver  continued  to 
kick,  with  undiminished  vigor,  at  the  cellar  door.  The  ac- 
counts of  his  ferocity,  as  related  by  Mrs.  Sowerberry  and 
Charlotte,  were  of  so  startling  a  nature,  that  Mr.  Bumble 
judged  it  prudent  to  parley,  before  opening  the  door.  With 
this  view  he  gave  a  kick  at  the  outside,  by  wax  of  prelude  ; 
and  then,  applying  his  mouth  to  the  key-hole,  said,  in  a  deep 
and  impressive  tone  : 

"  Oliver  !  " 

"  Come  ;  you  let  me  out !  "  replied  Oliver  from  the  in- 
side. 

"  Do  you  know  this  here  voice,  Oliver  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bum- 
ble. 

"Yes,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Ain't  you  afraid  of  it,  sir  ?  Ain't  you   a-trembling  while 
I  speak,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bumble. 
No  !  "  replied  Oliver,  boldly. 

An  answer  so  different  from  the  one  he  had  expected  to 
elicit,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving,  staggered  Mr.  Bum- 
ble not  a  little.  He  stepped  back  from  the  key-hole,  drew 
himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  looked  from  one  to  an- 
other of  the  three  by  standers,  in  mute  astonishment. 

"Oh,  you  know,  Mr.  Bumble,  he  must  be  mad,"  said  Mrs. 
Sowerberry.  "  No  boy  in  half  his  senses  could  venture  to 
speak  so  to  you." 

"  It's  not  Madness,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  after  a 
few  moments  of  deep  meditation.     "  It's  Meat." 


/ 

OLIVER  TWIST.  53 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sowerberry. 

"  Meat,  ma'am,  meat,"  replied  Bumble,  with  stern  em- 
phasis. "  You've  overfed  him,  ma'am.  You've  raised  a 
artificial  soul  and  spirit  in  him,  ma'am,  unbecoming  a  per- 
son of  his  condition  ;  as  the  board,  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  who 
are  practical  philosophers,  will  tell  you.  What  have  pau- 
pers to  do  with  soul  or  spirit  ?  It's  quite  enough  that  we  let 
'em  have  live  bodies.  If  you  had  kept  the  boy  on  gruel, 
ma'am,  this  would  never  have  happened." 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  piously  rais- 
ing her  eyes  to  the  kitchen  ceiling  ;  "  this  comes  of  being 
liberal !  " 

The  liberality  of  Mrs.  Sowerberry  to  Oliver  had  consisted 
in  a  profuse  bestowal  upon  him  of  all  the  dirty  odds  and 
ends  which  nobody  else  would  eat  ;  so  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  meekness  and  self-devotion  in  her  voluntarily  re- 
maining under  Mr.  Bumble's  heavy  accusation.  Of  which, 
to  do  her  justice,  she  was  wholly  innocent  in.  thought,  word, 
or  deed. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  when  the  lady  brought  her 
eyes  down  to  earth  again  ;  "  the  only  thing  that  can  be  done 
now,  that  I  know  of,  is  to  leave  him  in  the  cellar  for  a  day 
or  so,  till  he's  a  little  starved  down  ;  and  then  to  take  him 
out,  and  keep  him  on  gruel  all  through  his  apprenticeship. 
He  comes  of  a  bad  family.  Excitable  natures,  Mrs.  Sower- 
berry !  Both  the  nurse  and  doctor  said  that  that  mother  of 
his  made  her  way  here,  against  difficulties  and  pain  that 
would  have  killed  any  well-disposed  woman,  weeks  before." 

At  this  point  of  Mr.  Bumble's  discourse,  Oliver,  just  hear- 
ing enough  to  know  that  some  new  allusion  was  being  made 
to  his  mother,  recommenced  kicking,  with  a  violence  that 
rendered  every  other  sound  inaudible.  Sowerberry  return- 
ed at  this  juncture.  Oliver's  offense  having  been  explained 
to  him,  with  such  exaggerations  as  the  ladies  thought  best 
calculated  to  rouse  his  ire,  he  unlocked  the  cellar  door  in  a 
twinkling,  and  dragged  his  rebellious  apprentice  out  by  the 
collar. 

Oliver's  clothes  had  been  torn  in  the  beating  he  had  re- 
ceived ;  his  face  was  bruised  and  scratched  ;  and  his  hair 
scattered  over  his  forehead.  The  angry  flush  had  not  dis- 
appeared, however ;  and  when  he  was  pulled  out  of  his 
prison,  he  scowled  boldly  on  Noah,  and  looked  quite  un- 
dismayed. 


54  OLIVER     TWIST. 

^»  "  Now,  you  are  a  nice  young  fellow,  ain't  you?"  said 
Sowerberry  ;  giving  Oliver  a  shake,  and  a  box  on  the  ear. 

"He  called  my  mother  names,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Well,  what  if  he  did,  you  little  ungrateful  wretch  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Sowerberry.    "  She  deserved  what  he  said,  and  worse." 

"  She  didn't,"  said  Oliver. 

"  She  did,"  said  Mrs.  Sowerberry. 

"  It's  a  lie  !  "  said  Oliver. 

Mrs.  Sowerberry  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

This  flood  of  tears  left  Mr.  Sowerberry  no  alternative. 
If  he  had  hesitated  for  one  instant  to  punish  Oliver  most 
severely,  it  must  be  quite  clear  to  every  experienced  reader 
that  he  would  have  been,  according  to  all  precedents  in  dis- 
putes of  matrimony  established,  a  brute,  an  unnatural  hus- 
band, an  insulting  creature,  a  base  imitation  of  a  man,  and 
various  other  agreeable  characters  too  numerous  for  recital 
within  the  limits  of  this  chapter.  To  do  him  justice,  he 
was,  as  far  as  his  power  went — it  was  not  very  extensive — 
kindly  disposed  toward  the  boy  ;  perhaps,  because  it  was 
his  interest  to  be  so  ;  perhaps,  because  his  wife  disliked 
him.  The  flood  of  tears,  however,  left  him  no  resource  ; 
so  he  at  once  gave  him  a  drubbing,  which  satisfied  even  Mrs. 
Sowerberry  herself,  and  rendered  Mr.  Bumble's  subsequent 
application  of  the  parochial  cane  rather  unnecessary.  For 
the  rest  of  the  day,  he  was  shut  up  in  the  back  kitchen,  in 
company  with  a  pump  and  a  slice  of  bread  ;  and,  at  night, 
Mrs.  Sowerberry,  after  making  various  remarks  outside  the 
door,  by  no  means  complimentary  to  the  memory  of  his, 
mother,  looked  into  the  room,  and,  amidst  the  jeers  and 
pointings  of  Noah  and  Charlotte,  ordered  him  up  stairs  to 
his  dismal  bed. 

It  was  not  until  he  was  left  alone  in  the  silence  and  still- 
ness of  the  gloomy  workshop  of  the  undertaker,  that  Oliver 
gave  way  to  the  feelings  which  the  day's  treatment  may  be 
supposed  likely  to  have  awakened  in  a  mere  child.  He  had 
listened  to  their  taunts  with  a  look  of  contempt  ;  he  had 
borne  the  lash  without  a  cry  ;  for  he  felt  that  pride  swelling 
in  his  heart  which  would  have  kept  down  a  shriek  to  the 
last,  though  they  had  roasted  him  alive.  But  now,  when 
there  was  none  to  see  or  hear  him,  he  fell  upon  his  knees  on 
the  floor  ;  and,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  wept  such  tears 
as,  God  send  for  the  credit  of  our  nature,  few  so  young  may 
ever  have  cause  to  pour  out  before  him  I 


OLIVER  TWIST.  55 

For  a  long  time  Oliver  remained  motionless  in  this  atti- 
tude. The  candle  was  burning  low  in  the  socket  when  he 
rose  to  his  feet.  Having  gazed  cautiously  round  him,  and 
listened  intently,  he  gently  undid  the  fastenings  of  the  door, 
and  looked  abroad. 

It  was  a  cold,  dark  night.  The  stars  seemed,  to  the  boy's 
eyes,  further  from  the  earth  than  he  had  ever  seen  them  be- 
fore ;  there  was  no  wind  ;  and  the  somber  shadows  thrown 
by  the  trees  upon  the  ground,  looked  sepulchral  and  death- 
like, from  being  so  still.  He  softly  reclosed  the  door. 
Having  availed  himself  of  the  expiring  light  of  the  candle 
to  tie  up  in  a  handkerchief  the  few  articles  of  wearing  ap- 
parel he  had,  he  sat  himself  down  upon  a  bench  to  wait  for 
morning. 

With  the  first  ray  of  light  that  struggled  through  the  crev- 
ices in  the  shutters,  Oliver  arose,  and  again  unbarred  the 
door.  One  timid  look  around — one  moment's  pause  of  hes- 
itation— he  had  closed  it  behind  him,  and  was  in  the  open 
street. 

He  looked  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  uncertain  whither 
to  fly.  He  remembered  to  have  seen  the  wagons,  as  they 
went  out,  toiling  up  the  hill.  He  took  the  same  route  ;  and 
arriving  at  a  foot-path  across  the  fields,  which  he  knew, 
after  some  distance,  led  out  again  into  the  road,  struck  into 
it,  and  walked  quickly  on. 

Along  this  same  foot-path,  Oliver  well  remembered  he 
had  trotted  beside  Mr.  Bumble,  when  he  first  carried  him 
to  the  work-house  from  the  farm.  His  way  lay  directly  in 
front  of  the  cottage.  His  heart  beat  quickly  when  he  be- 
thought himself  of  this,  and  he  half  resolved  to  turn  back. 
He  had  come  a  long  way  though,  and  should  lose  a  great 
deal  of  time  by  doing  so.  Besides,  it  was  so  early  that  there 
was  very  little  fear  of  his  being  seen  ;  so  he  walked  on. 

He  reached  the  house.  There  was  no  appearance  of  its 
inmates  stirring  at  that  early  hour.  Oliver  stopped,  and 
peeped  into  the  garden.  A  child  was  weeding  one  of  the 
little  beds  ;  as  he  stopped,  he  raised  his  pale  face  and  dis- 
closed the  features  of  one  of  his  former  companions.  Oliver 
felt  glad  to  see  him  before  he  went  ;  for,  though  younger 
than  himself,  he  had  been  his  little  friend  and  playmate. 
They  had  been  beaten  and  starved,  and  shut  up  together 
many  and  many  a  time. 

"  Hush,  Dick  !  "  said  Oliver,  as  the  boy  ran  to  the  gate, 


56  OLIVER  TWIST. 

and  thrust  his  thin  arm  between  the  rails  to  greet  him.  4<  Is 
any  one  up  ?" 

"  Nobody  but  me,"  replied  the  child. 

"  You  mustn't  say  you  saw  me,  Dick,"  said  Oliver.  "  I 
am  running  away.  They  beat  and  ill-use  me,  Dick  ;  and  I 
am  going  to  seek  my  fortune  some  long  way  off.  I  don't 
know  where.     How  pale  you  are  ?  " 

"  I  heard  the  doctor  tell  them  I  was  dying,"  replied  the 
child,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  dear  ; 
but  don't  stop,  don't  stop  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will,  to  say  good-by  to  you,"  replied  Oliver. 
"  I  shall  see  you  again,  Dick.  I  know  I  shall.  You  will 
be  well  and  happy  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  the  child.  "After  I  am  dead,  but 
not  before.  I  know  the  doctor  must  be  right,  Oliver,  be- 
cause I  dream  so  much  of  Heaven,  and  Angels,  and  kind 
faces  that  I  never  see  when  I  am  awake.  Kiss  me,"  said 
the  child,  climbing  up  the  low  gate,  and  flinging  his  little 
arms  round  Oliver's  neck  :  "  Good-by,  dear  !  God  bless 
you  ! " 

The  blessing  was  from  a  young  child's  lips,  but  it  was  the 
first  that  Oliver  had  ever  heard  invoked  upon  his  head  ;  and 
through  the  struggles  and  sufferings,  and  troubles  and 
changes,  of  his  after-life,  he  never  once  forgot  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OLIVER  WALKS  TO  LONDON.       HE  ENCOUNTERS  ON  THE  ROAD 
A  STRANGE  SORT  OF    YOUNG  GENTLEMAN. 

Oliver  reached  the  stile  at  which  the  by-path  terminated, 
and  once  more  gained  the  high-road.  It  was  eight  o'clock 
now.  Though  he  was  nearly  five  miles  away  from  the  town, 
he  ran,  and  hid  behind  the  hedges,  by  turns,  till  noon,  fear- 
ing that  he  might  be  pursued  and  overtaken.  Then  he  sat 
down  to  rest  by  the  side  of  the  mile-stone,  and  began  to 
think,  for  the  first  time,  where  he  had  better  go  and  try  to 
live. 

The  stone  by  which  he  was  seated  bore,  in  large  charac- 
ters, an  intimation  that  it  was  just  seventy  miles  from  that 
spot  to  London.     The  name  awakened  a  new  train  of  ideas 


OLIVER  TWIST.  57 

in  the  boy's  mind.  London  ! — that  great  large  place  ! — no- 
body— not  even  Mr.  Bumble — could  ever  find  him  there  ! 
He  had  often  heard  the  old  men  in  the  work-house,  too,  say 
that  no  lad  of  spirit  need  want  in  London  ;  and  that  there 
were  ways  of  living  in  that  vast  city  which  those  who  had 
been  bred  up  in  country  parts  had.no  idea  of.  It  was  the 
very  place  for  a  homeless  boy,  who  must  die  in  the  streets 
unless  some  one  helped  him.  As  these  things  passed  through 
his  thoughts,  he  jumped  upon  his  feet  and  again  walked  for- 
ward. 

He  had  diminished  the  distance  between  himself  and 
London  by  full  four  miles  more,  before  he  recollected  how 
much  he  must  undergo  ere  he  could  hope  to  reach  his  place 
of  destination.  As  this  consideration  forced  itself  upon 
him,  he  slackened  his  pace  a  little,  and  meditated  upon  his 
means  of  getting  there.  He  had  a  crust  of  bread,  a  coarse 
shirt,  and  two  pairs  of  stockings  in  his  bundle.  He  had  a 
penny  too — a  gift  of  Sowerberry's  after  some  funeral  in 
which  he  had  acquitted  himself  more  than  ordinarily  well — 
in  his  pocket.  "A  clean  shirt,"  thought  Oliver,  "is  a  very 
comfortable  thing  ;  and  so  are  two  pairs  of  darned  stock- 
ings ;  and  so  is  a  penny  ;  but  they  are  small  helps  to  a  six- 
ty-five miles'  walk  in  winter  time."  But  Oliver's  thoughts, 
like  those  of  most  other  people,  although  they  were  ex- 
tremely ready  and  active  to  point  out  his  difficulties,  were 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  suggest  any  feasible  mode  of  surmount- 
ing them  ;  so,  after  a  good  deal  of  thinking  to  no  particular 
purpose,  he  changed  his  little  bundle  over  to  the  other 
shoulder,  and  trudged  on. 

Oliver  walked  twenty  miles  that  day  ;  and  all  that  time 
tasted  nothing  but  the  crust  of  dry  bread,  and  a  few  draughts 
of  water,  which  he  begged  at  the  cottage-doors  by  the  road- 
side. When  the  night  came,  he  turned  into  a  meadow  ; 
and,  creeping  close  under  a  hay-rick,  determined  to  lie  there 
till  morning.  He  felt  frightened  at  first,  for  the  wind 
moaned  dismally  over  the  empty  fields  ;  and  hungry,  and 
more  alone  than  he  had  ever  felt  before.  Being  very  tired 
with  his  walk,  however,  he  soon  fell  asleep  and  forgot  his 
troubles. 

He  felt  cold  and  stiff  when  he  got  up  next  morning,  and 
so  hungry  that  he  was  obliged  to  exchange  the  penny  for  a 
small  loaf,  in  the  very  first  village  through  which  he  passed. 
He  had  walked  no  more    than    twelve    miles,  when  night 


58  OLIVER  TWIST. 

closed  in  again.  His  feet  were  sore,  and  his  legs  so  weak 
that  they  trembled  beneath  him.  Another  night  passed  in 
the  bleak,  damp  air,  made  him  worse  ;  when  he  set  forward 
on  his  journey  next  morning,  he  could  hardly  crawl  along. 

He  waited  at  the  bottom  of  a  steep  hill  till  a  stage-coach 
came  up,  and  then  begged  of  the  outside  passengers  ;  but 
there  were  very  few  who  took  any  notice  of  him  ;  and  even 
those  told  him  to  wait  till  they  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  then  let  them  see  how  far  he  could  run  for  a  halfpenny. 
Poor  Oliver  tried  to  keep  up  with  the  coach  a  little  way,  but 
was  unable  to  do  it,  by  reason  of  his  fatigue  and  sore  feet. 
When  the  outsides  saw  this  they  put  their  halfpence  back 
into  their  pockets  again,  declaring  that  he  was  an  idle  young 
dog,  and  didn't  deserve  any  thing  ;  and  the  coach  rattled 
away  and  left  only  a  cloud  of  dust  behind. 

In  some  villages,  large  painted  boards  were  fixed  up, 
warning  all  persons  who  begged  within  the  district  that 
they  would  be  sent  to  jail.  This  frightened  Oliver  very 
much,  and  made  him  glad  to  get  out  of  those  villages  with 
all  possible  expedition.  In  others,  he  would  stand  about 
the  inn-yards,  and  look  mournfully  at  every  one  who  passed; 
a  proceeding  which  generally  terminated  in  the  landlady's 
ordering  one  of  the  post-boys  who  were  lounging  about  to 
drive  that  strange  boy  out  of  the  place,  for  she  was  sure  he 
had  come  to  steal  something.  If  he  begged  at  a  farmer's 
house,  ten  to  one  but  they  threatened  to  set  the  dog  on  him; 
and  when  he  showed  his  nose  in  a  shop,  they  talked  about 
the  beadle — which  brought  Oliver's  heart  into  his  mouth  — 
very  often  the  only  thing  he  had  there  for  many  hours 
together. 

In  fact,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  good-hearted  turnpike- 
man,  and  a  benevolent  old  lady,  Oliver's  troubles  would 
have  been  shortened  by  the  very  same  process  which  had 
put  an  end  to  his  mother's  ;  in  other  words,  he  would  most 
assuredly  have  fallen  dead  upon  the  king's  highway.  Bui 
the  turnpike-man  gave  him  a  meal  of  bread  and  cheese  ; 
and  the  old  lady,  who  had  a  shipwrecked  grandson  wander- 
ing barefoot  in  some  distant  part  of  the  earth,  took  pity  up- 
on the  poor  orphan,  and  gave  him  what  little  she  could 
afford — and  more — with  such  kind  and  gentle  words,  and 
such  tears  of  sympathy  and  compassion,  that  they  sank 
deeper  into  Oliver's  soul,  than  all  the  sufferings  he  had  ever 
undergone. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  59 

Early  on  the  seventh  morning  after  he  had  left  his  native 
place,  Oliver  limped  slowly  into  the  little  town  of  Barnet. 
The  window-shutters  were  closed  ;  the  street  was  empty  ; 
not  a  soul  had  awakened  to  the  business  of  the  day.  The 
sun  was  rising  in  all  its  splendid  beauty  ;  but  the  light  only 
served  to  show  the  boy  his  own  lonesomeness  and  desola- 
tion, as  he  sat,  with  bleeding  feet  and  covered  with  dust, 
upon  a  door-step. 

By  degrees  the  shutters  were  opened  ;  the  window-blinds 
were  drawn  up  ;  and  people  began  passing  to  and  fro. 
Some  few  stopped  to  gaze  at  Oliver  for  a  moment  or  two, 
or  turned  round  to  stare  at  him  as  they  hurried  by  ;  but 
none  relieved  him,  or  troubled  themselves  to  inquire  how 
he  came  there.  He  had  no  heart  to  beg.  And  there  he 
sat. 

He  had  been  crouching  on  the  step  for  some  time  : 
wondering  at  the  great  number  of  public-houses  (every 
other  house  in  Barnet  was  a  tavern,  large  or  small),  gazing 
listlessly  at  the  coaches  as  they  passed  through,  and  think- 
ing how  strange  it  seemed  that  they  could  do,  with  ease,  in 
a  few  hours,  what  it  had  taken  him  a  whole  week  of  courage 
and  determination  beyond  his  years  to  accomplish  :  when 
he  was  roused  by  observing  that  a  boy,  who  had  passed  him 
carelessly  some  minutes  before,  had  returned,  and  was  now 
surveying  him  most  earnestly  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way.  He  took  little  heed  of  this  at  first ;  but  the  boy  re- 
mained in  the  same  attitude  of  close  observation  so  long, 
that  Oliver  raised  his  head,  and  returned  his  steady  look. 
Upon  this,  the  boy  crossed  over,  and,  walking  close  up  to 
Oliver,  said. 

"  Hullo,  my  covey  !     What's  the  row  ?  " 

The  boy  who  addressed  this  inquiry  to  the  young  way- 
farer, was  about  his  own  age  :  but  one  of  the  queerest- 
looking  boys  that  Oliver  had  ever  seen.  He  was  a  snub- 
nosed,  flat-browed,  common-faced  boy  enough  ;  and  as  dirty 
a  juvenile  as  one  would  wish  to  see  ;  but  he  had  about 
him  all  the  airs  and  manners  of  a  man.  He  was  short  of 
his  age  ;  with  rather  bow  legs,  and  little,  sharp,  ugly  eyes. 
His  hat  was  stuck  on  the  top  of  his  head  so  lightly,  that  it 
threatened  to  fall  off  every  moment — and  would  have  done 
so,  very  often,  if  the  wearer  had  not  had  a  knack  of  every 
now  and  then  giving  his  head  a  sudden  twitch,  which  brought 
it  back  to  its  old  place  again.     He  wore  a  man's  coat,  which 


Go  OLIVER  TWIST. 

reached  nearly  to  his  heels.  He  had  turned  the  cuffs  back 
half-way  up  his  arm,  to  get  his  hands  out  of  the  sleeves  : 
apparently  with  the  ultimate  view  of  thrusting  them  into  the 
pockets  of  his  corduroy  trowsers  ;  for  there  he  kept  them. 
He  was,  altogether,  as  roystering  and  swaggering  a  young 
gentleman  as  ever  stood  four  feet  six,  or  something  less,  in 
his  bluchers. 

"  Hullo,  my  covey  !  What's  the  row  ?  "  said  this  strange 
young  gentleman  to  Oliver. 

"  I  am,  very  hungry  and  tired,"  replied  Oliver  :  the  tears 
standing  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke.  "  I  have  walked  a  long 
way.     I  have  been  walking  these  seven  days." 

"  Walking  for  sivin  days  ! "  said  the  young  gentleman. 
"  Oh,  I  see.  Beak's  order,  eh  ?  But,"  he  added,  noticing 
Oliver's  look  of  surprise,  "  I  suppose  you  don't  know  what 
a  beak  is,  my  flash  com-pan-i-on." 

Oliver  mildly  replied,  that  he  had  always  heard  a  bird's 
mouth  described  by  the  term  in  question. 

"  My  eyes,  how  green  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  gentleman. 
"  Why,  a  beak's  a  madgst'rate  ;  and  when  you  walk  by  a 
beak's  order,  it's  not  straight  forerd,  but  always  a-going  up, 
and  nivir  a-coming  down  agin.  Was  you  never  on  the  mill  ?  " 

"What  mill?"  inquired  Oliver. 

"  What  mill  !  Why,  the  mill — the  mill  as  takes  up  so  little 
room  that  it'll  work  inside  a  Stone  Jug  ;  and  always  goes 
better  when  the  wind's  low  with  people,  than  when  it's  high; 
acos  then  they  can't  get  workmen.  But  come,"  said  the 
young  gentleman  ;  u  you  want  grub,  and  you  shall  have  it. 
I'm  at  low-water-mark  myself — only  one  bob  and  a  mag- 
pie ;  but,  as  far  as  it  goes,  I'll  fork  out  and  stump.  Up 
with  you  on  your  pins.     There  !  Now  then  !  Morrice  !  " 

Assisting  Oliver  to  rise,  the  young  gentleman  took  him  to 
an  adjacent  chandler's  shop,  where  he  purchased  a  sufficiency 
of  ready-dressed  ham  and  a  half-quartern  loaf,  or,  as  he 
himself  expressed  it,  "  a  four-penny  bran  !  "  the  ham  being 
kept  clean  and  preserved  from  dust  by  the  ingenious  ex- 
pedient of  making  a  hole  in  the  loaf  by  pulling  out  a  portion 
of  the  crumb,  and  stuffing  it  therein.  Taking  the  bread 
under  his  arm,  the  young  gentleman  turned  into  a  small 
public-house,  and  led  the  way  to  a  tap-room  in  the  rear  of 
the  premises.  Here  a  pot  of  beer  was  brought  in  by  direc- 
tion of  the  mysterious  youth  ;  and  Oliver,  falling  to  at  his 
xiew  friend's  bidding,  made  a  long  and  hearty  meal,  during 


OLIVER  TWIST.  6j 

the  progress  of  which  the  strange  boy  eyed  him  from  time 
to  time  with  great  attention. 

"  Going  to  London  ?  "  said  the  strange  boy,  when  Oliver 
had  at  length  concluded. 

"Yes." 

"  Got  any  lodgings  ?  " 

"  No." 

u  Money?" 

"  No." 

The  strange  boy  whistled,  and  put  his  arras  into  his  pock- 
ets as  far  as  the  big  coat  sleeves  would  let  them  go. 

"  Do  you  live  in  London  ?  "  inquired  Oliver. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  when  I'm  at  home,"  replied  the  boy.  "  I 
suppose  you  want  some  place  to  sleep  in  to-night,  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  answered  Oliver.  "  I  have-  not  slept  un- 
der a  roof  since  I  left  the  country." 

"  Don't  fret  your  eyelids  on  that  score,"  said  the  young 
gentleman.  "  I've  got  to  be  in  London  to-night  ;  and  I 
know  a  'spectable  old  genelman  as  lives  there,  wot'll  give 
you  lodgings  for  nothink,  and  never  ask  for  change — that  is, 
if  any  genelman  he  knows  interduces  you.  And  don't  he 
know  me  ?  Oh,  no  !  not  in  the  least !  By  no  means.  Cer- 
tainly not  !  " 

The  young  gentleman  smiled,  as  if  to  intimate  that  the 
latter  fragments  of  discourse  were  playfully  ironical  ;  and 
finished  the  beer  as  he  did  so. 

This  unexpected  offer  of  shelter  was  too  tempting  to  be 
resisted  ;  especially  as  it  was  immediately  followed  up,  by 
the  assurance  that  the  old  gentleman  referred  to  would 
doubtless  provide  Oliver  with  a  comfortable  place,  without 
loss  of  time.  This  led  to  a  more  friendly  and  confidential 
dialogue  ;  from  which  Oliver  discovered  that  his  friend's 
name  was  Jack  Dawkins,  and  that  he  was  a  peculiar  pet  and 
protege  of  the  elderly  gentleman  before  mentioned. 

Mr.  Dawkins's  appearance  did  not  say  a  vast  deal  in  favor 
of  the  comforts  which  his  patron's  interest  obtained  for 
those  whom  he  took  under  his  protection  ;  but,  as  he  had  a 
rather  flighty  and  dissolute  mode  of  conversing,  and  further- 
more avowed  that  among  his  intimate  friends  he  wis  better 
known  by  the  sobriquet  of  "  The  artful  Dodger,"  Oliver 
concluded  that,  being  of  a  dissipated  and  careless  turn,  the 
moral  precepts  of  his  benefactor  had   hitherto  been  thrown 


62  OLIVER  TWIST. 

away  upon  him.  Under  this  impression,  he  secretly  resolved 
to  cultivate  the  good  opinion  of  the  old  gentleman  as 
quickly  as  possible  ;  and,  if  he  found  the  Dodger  incorri- 
gible, as  he  more  than  half  suspected  he  should,  to  decline 
the  honor  of  his  further  acquaintance. 

As  John  Dawkins  objected  to  their  entering  London  be- 
fore nightfall,  it  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  when  they  reach- 
ed the  turnpike  at  Islington.  They  crossed  from  the  Angel 
into  St.  John's  road  ;  struck  down  the  small  street  which 
terminates  a  Sadler's  Well  Theater  ;  through  Exmouth  Street 
and  Coppice  Row  ;  down  the  little  court  by  the  side  of  the 
work-house  ;  across  the  classic  ground  which  once  bore  the 
name  of  Hockley-in-the-Hole  ;  thence  into  Little  Saffron 
Hill  ;  and  so  into  Saffron  Hill  the  Great  ;  along  which  the 
Dodger  scudded  at  a  rapid  pace,  directing  Oliver  to  follow 
close  at  his  heels. 

Although  Oliver  had  enough  to  occupy  his  attention  in 
keeping  sight  of  his  leader,  he  could  not  help  bestowing  a 
few  hasty  glances  on  either  side  of  the  way,  as  he  passed 
along.  A  dirtier  or  more  wretched  place  he  had  never  seen. 
The  street  was  very  narrow  and  muddy,  and  the  air  was  im- 
pregnated with  filthy  odors.  There  were  a  good  many  small 
shops  ;  but  the  only  stock-in-trade  appeared  to  be  heaps  of 
children,  who,  even  at  that  time  of  night,  were  crawling  in 
and  out  at  the  doors,  or  screaming  from  the  inside.  The 
sole,  places  that  seemed  to  prosper  amidst  the  general  blight 
of  the  place  were  the  public-houses  ;  and  in  them  the  lowest 
order  of  Irish  were  wrangling  with  might  and  main.  Cover- 
ed ways  and  yards,  which  here  and  there  diverged  from  the 
main  street,  disclosed  little  knots  of  houses,  where  drunken 
men  and  women  were  positively  wallowing  in  filth  ;  and 
from  several  of  the  door- ways,  great  ill-looking  fellows  were 
cautiously  emerging,  bound,  to  all  appearance,  on  no  very 
well-disposed  or  harmless  errands. 

Oliver  was  just  considering  whether  he  hadn't  better  run 
away,  when  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  His  con- 
ductor, catching  him  by  the  arm,  pushed  open  the  door  of  a 
house  near  Field  Lane  ;  and,  drawing  him  into  the  passage, 
closed  it  behind  them. 

"  Now,  then  !  "  cried  a  voice  from  below,  in  reply  to  a 
whistle  from  the  Dodger. 

"  Plummy  and  slam  !  "  was  the  reply. 

This  seemed  to  be  some  watch-word  or  signal  that  all  was 


OLIVER  TWIST.  63 

right  ;  for  the  light  of  a  feeble  candle  gleamed  on  the  wall 
at  the  remote  end  of  the  passage ;  and  a  man's  face 
peeped  out  from  where  a  balustrade  of  the  old  kitchen 
staircase  had  been  broken  away. 

"  There's  two  on  you,"  said  the  man,  thrusting  the  candle 
further  out,  and  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  "  Who's 
the  t'other  one  ?  " 

"  A  new  pal,"  replied  Jack  Dawkins,  pulling  Oliver  for- 
ward. 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  " 

"  Greenland.     Is  Fagin  up  stairs  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  he's  a  sortin'  the  wipes.  Up  with  you  !"  The 
candle  was  drawn  back,  and  the  face  disappeared. 

Oliver,  groping  his  way  with  one  hand,  and  having  the 
other  firmly  grasped  by  his  companion,  ascended  with  much 
difficulty  the  dark  and  broken  stairs  ;  which  his  conductor 
mounted  with  an  ease  and  expedition  that  showed  he  was 
well  acquainted  with  them.  He  threw  open  the  door  of  a 
back-room,  and  drew  Oliver  in  after  him. 

The  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  room  were  perfectly  black 
with  age  and  dirt.  There  was  a  deal  table  before  the  fire  ; 
upon  which  was  a  candle  stuck  in  a  ginger-beer  bottle,  two 
or  three  pewter  pots,  a  loaf  and  butter,  and  a  plate.  In  a 
frying-pan,  which  was  on  the  fire,  and  which  was  secured 
to  the  mantel-shelf  by  a  string,  some  sausages  were  cooking; 
and  standing  over  them,  with  a  toasting-fork  in  his  hand, 
was  a  very  old,  shriveled  Jew,  whose  villainous-looking  and 
repulsive  face  was  obscured  by  a  quantity  of  matted  red 
hair.  He  was  dressed  in  a  greasy  flannel  gown,  with  his 
throat  bare  ;  and  seemed  to  be  dividing  his  attention  be- 
tween the  frying-pan  and  a  clothes-horse,  over  which  a  great 
number  of  silk  handkerchiefs  were  hanging.  Several  rough 
beds,  made  of  old  sacks,  were  huddled  side  by  side  on  the 
floor.  Seated  round  the  table  were  four  or  five  boys,  none 
older  than  the  Dodger,  smoking  long  clay  pipes  and  drink- 
ing spirits,  with  the  air  of  middle-aged  men.  These  all 
crowded  about  their  associate  as  he  whispered  a  few  words 
to  the  Jew  ;  and  then  turned  round  and  grinned  at  Oliver. 
So  did  the  Jew  himself,  toasting-fork  in  hand. 

"This  is  him,  Fagin,"  said  Jack  Dawkins  ;  "my  friend 
Oliver  Twist." 

The  Jew  grinned  ;  and,  making  a  low  obeisance  to 
Oliver^  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  hoped  he  should  have 


64  OLIVER  TWIST. 

the  honor  of  his  intimate  acquaintance.  Upon  this,  the 
young  gentlemen  with  the  pipes  came  round  him,  and 
shook  both  his  hands  very  hard — especially  the  one  in 
which  he  held  his  little  bundle.  One  young  gentleman 
was  very  anxious  to  hang  up  his  cap  for  him  ;  and  another 
was  so  obliging  as  to  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  in  order 
that,  as  he  was  very  tired,  he  might  not  have  the  trouble  of 
emptying  them  himself  when  he  went  to  bed.  These  civil- 
ities would  probably  have  been  extended  much  further,  but 
for  a  liberal  exercise  of  the  Jew's  toasting-fork  on  the  heads 
and  shoulders  of  the  affectionate  youths  who  offered  them. 

"  We  are  very  glad  to  see  you,  Oliver,  very,"  said  the 
Jew.  "  Dodger,  take  off  the  sausages  ;  and  draw  a  tub  near 
the  fire  for  Oliver.  Ah,  you're  a-staring  at  the  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  !  eh,  my  dear  !  There  are  a  good  many  of 
'em,  ain't  there  ?  We've  just  looked  'em  out,  ready  for  the 
wash  ;  that's  all  Oliver — that's  all.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

The  latter  part  of  this  speech  was  hailed  by  a  boisterous 
shout  from  all  the  hopeful  pupils  of  the  merry  old  gentle- 
man ;  in  the  midst  of  which  they  went  to  supper. 

Oliver  ate  his  share,  and  the  Jew  then  mixed  him  a  glass 
of  hot  gin  and  water ;  telling  him  he  must  drink  it  off  di- 
rectly, because  another  gentleman  wanted  the  tumbler. 
Oliver  did  as  he  was  desired  Immediately  afterward  he 
felt  himself  gently  lifted  on  to  one  of  the  sacks  ;  and  then  he 
sunk  into  a  deep  sleep. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

CONTAINING      FURTHER     PARTICULARS      CONCERNING      THE 
PLEASANT  OLD  GENTLEMAN    AND  HIS    HOPEFUL    PUPILS. 

It  was  late  next  morning  when  Oliver  awoke,  from  a 
sound,  long  sleep.  There  was  no  other  person  in  the  room 
but  the  old  Jew,  who  was  boiling  some  coffee  in  a  saucepan 
for  breakfast,  and  whistling  softly  to  himself  as  he  stirred  it 
round  and  round  with  an  iron  spoon.  He  would  stop  every 
now  and  then  to  listen  when  there  was  the  least  noise  below; 
and  when  he  had  satisfied  himself,  he  would  go  on,  whistling 
and  stirring  again,  as  before. 

Although  Oliver  had  roused  himself  from  sleep,  he  was 


OLIVER  TWIST.  65 

not  thoroughly  awake.  There  is  a  drowsy  state,  between 
sleeping  and  waking,  when  you  dream  more  in  five  minutes 
with  your  eyes  half  open,  and  yourself  half  conscious  of  every 
thing  that  is  passing  around  you,  than  you  would  in  five 
nights  with  your  eyes  fast  closed,  and  your  senses  wrapped 
in  perfect  unconsciousness.  At  such  times,  a  mortal  knows 
just  enough  of  what  his  mind  is  doing,  to  form  some  glim- 
mering conception  of  its  mighty  powers,  its  bounding  from 
earth  and  spurning  time  and  space,  when  freed  from  the  re- 
straint of  its  corporeal  associate. 

Oliver  was  precisely  in  this  condition.  He  saw  the  Jew 
with  his  half-closed  eyes  ;  heard  his  low  whistling  ;  and  rec- 
ognized the  sound  of  the  spoon  grating  against  the  saucepan's 
sides  ;  and  yet  the  self-same  senses  were  mentally  engaged, 
at  the  same  time,  in  busy  action  with  almost  every  body  he 
had  ever  known. 

When  the  coffee  was  done,  the  Jew  drew  the  saucepan  to 
the  hob.  Standing,  then,  in  an  irresolute  attitude  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  if  he  did  not  well  know  how  to  employ  himself, 
he  turned  round  and  looked  at  Oliver,  and  called  him  by 
his  name.  He  did  not  answer,  and  was  to  all  appearance 
asleep. 

After  satisfying  himself  upon  this  head,  the  Jew  stepped 
gently  to  the  door  :  which  he  fastened.  He  then  drew  forth, 
as  it  seemed  to  Oliver,  from  some  trap  in  the  floor,  a  small 
box,  which  he  placed  carefully  on  the  table.  His  eyes  glis- 
tened as  he  raised  the  lid  and  looked  in.  Dragging  an  old 
chair  to  the  table,  he  sat  down  ;  and  took  from  it  a  magnifi- 
cent gold  watch,  sparkling  with  jewels. 

"  Aha  ! "  said  the  Jew,  shrugging  up  his  shoulders,  and 
distorting  every  feature  with  a  hideous  grin.  "  Clever  dogs  ! 
Clever  dogs  !  Staunch  to  the  last !  Never  told  the  old  par- 
son where  they  were.  Never  peached  upon  old  Fagin  ! 
And  why  should  they  ?  It  wouldn't  have  loosened  the  knot, 
or  kept  the  drop  up  a  minute  longer.  No,  no,  no  !  Fine 
fellows  !  Fine  fellows  !  " 

With  these,  and  other  muttered  reflections  of  the  like 
nature,  the  Jew  once  more  deposited  the  watch  in  its  place 
of  safety.  At  least  half  a  dozen  more  were  severally  drawn 
forth  from  the  same  box,  and  surveyed  with  equal  pleasure  ; 
besides  rings,  brooches,  bracelets,  and  other  articles  of 
jewelry,  of  such  magnificent  materials,  and  costly  work- 
manship, that  Oliver  had  no  idea  even  of  their  names. 


66  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Having  replaced  these  trinkets,  the  Jew  took  out  another, 
so  small  that  it  lay  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  There  seemed 
to  be  some  very  minute  inscription  on  it ;  for  the  Jew  laid 
it  flat  upon  the  table,  and,  shading  it  with  his  hand,  pored 
over  it,  long  and  earnestly.  At  length  he  put  it  down,  as  if 
despairing  of  success,  and,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  mut- 
tered : 

"  What  a  fine  thing  capital  punishment  is  !  Dead  men 
never  repent  ;  dead  men  never  bring  awkward  stories  to 
light.  Ah,  it's  a  fine  thing  for  the  trade  !  Five  of  'em  strung 
up  in  a  row,  and  none  left  to  play  booty,  or  turn  white- 
livered  !  " 

As  the  Jew  uttered  these  words,  his  bright  dark  eyes, 
which  had  been  staring  vacantly  before  him,  fell  on  Oliver's 
face  ;  the  boy's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  mute 
curiosity  ;  and  although  the  recognition  was  only 
for  an  instant — for  the  briefest  space  of  time  that 
can  possibly  be  conceived — it  was  enough  to  show  the  old 
man  that  he  had  been  observed.  He  closed  the  lid  of  the 
box  with  a  loud  crash  ;  and,  laying  his  hand  on  a  bread- 
knife  which  was  on  the  table,  started  furiously  up.  He 
trembled  very  much  though  ;  for,  even  in  his  terror,  Oliver 
could  see  that  the  knife  quivered  in  the  air. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  the  Jew.  "  What  do  you  watch  me 
for  ?  Why  are  you  awake  ?  What  have  you  seen  ?  Speak  out, 
boy  !  Quick — quick  !  for  your  life  !" 

"  I  wasn't  able  to  sleep  any  longer,  sir,"  replied  Oliver, 
meekly.     "  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  disturbed  you,  sir." 

"  You  were  not  awake  an  hour  ago  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  scowl- 
ing fiercely  on  the  boy. 

"  No  !     No,  indeed  !  "  replied  Oliver. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  cried  the  Jew,  with  a  still  fiercer  look 
than  before,  and  a  threatening  attitude. 

"  Upon  my  word  I  was  not,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  earnestly. 
"I  was  not,  indeed,  sir." 

"  Tush,  tush,  my  dear  !  "  said  the  Jew,  abruptly  resuming 
his  old  manner,  and  playing  with  the  knife  a  little,  before  he 
laid  it  down  ;  as  if  to  induce  the  belief  that  he  had  caught 
it  up  in  mere  sport.  Of  course  I  know  that,  my  dear.  I 
only  tried  to  frighten  you.  You're  a  brave  boy.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
you're  a  brave  boy,  Oliver  !  "  The  Jew  rubbed  his  hands 
with  a  chuckle,  but  glanced  uneasily  at  the  box,  notwith- 
standing. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  67 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  these  pretty  things,  my  dear  ? "  said 
the  Jew,  laying  his  hand  upon  it  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"Ah!"  said  the  Jew,  turning  rather  pale.  "They — 
they're  mine,  Oliver  ;  my  little  property.  All  1  have  to  live 
upon,  in  my  old  age.  The  folks  call  me  a  miser,  my  dear. 
Only  a  miser  ;  that's  all." 

Oliver  thought  the  old  gentleman  must  be  a  decided  miser 
to  live  in  such  a  dirty  place,  with  so  many  watches  ;  but, 
thinking  that  perhaps  his  fondness  for  the  Dodger  and  the 
other  boys  cost  him  a  good  deal  of  money,  he  only  cast  a 
deferential  look  at  the  Jew,  and  asked  if  he  might  get  up. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  certainly,"  replied  the  old  gentle- 
man. "  Stay.  There's  a  pitcher  of  water  in  the  corner  by 
the  door.  Bring  it  here  ;  and  I'll  give  you  a  basin  to  wash 
in,  my  dear." 

Oliver  got  up  ;  walked  across  the  room  ;  and  stooped  for 
an  instant  to  raise  the  pitcher.  When  he  turned  his  head, 
the  box  was  gone. 

He  had  scarcely  washed  himself,  and  made  every  thing 
tidy  by  emptying  the  basin  out  of  the  window,  agreeably  to 
the  Jew's  directions,  when  the  Dodger  returned,  accompanied 
by  a  very  sprightly  young  friend,  whom  Oliver  had  seen 
smoking  on  the  previous  night,  and  who  was  now  formally 
introduced  to  him  as  Charley  Bates.  The  four  sat  down  to 
breakfast  on  the  coffee,  and  some  hot  rolls  and  ham  which 
the  Dodger  had  brought  home  in  the  crown  of  his  hat. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Jew,  glancing  slyly  at  Oliver,  and  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  Dodger,  "  I  hope  you've  been  at 
work  this  morning,  my  dears  ?  " 

"  Hard,"  replied  the  Dodger. 

"As  Nails,"  added  Charley  Bates. 

"Good  boys,  good  boys  !  "  said  the  Jew.  "What  have 
you  got,  Dodger  ?  " 

"  A  couple  of  pocket-books,"  replied  that  young  gentle- 
man. 

"  Lined  ? "  inquired  the  Jew,  with  eagerness. 

"  Pretty  well,"  replied  the  Dodger,  producing  two  pocket- 
books  ;  one  green,  and  the  other  red. 

"  Not  so  heavy  as  they  might  be,"  said  the  Jew,  after  look- 
ing at  the  insides  carefully  ;  "  but  very  neat  and  nicely  made. 
Ingenious  workman,  ain't  he,  Oliver?" 

"  Very,  indeed,"  said  Oliver.     At  which  Mr.  Charles  Bates 


68  OLIVER  TWIST. 

laughed  uproariously  ;  very  much  to  the  amazement  of 
Oliver,  who  saw  nothing  to  laugh  at  in  any  thing  that  had 
passed. 

"  And  what  have  you  got,  my  dear  ? "  said  Fagan  to  Charley 
Bates. 

"  Wipes,"  replied  Master  Bates  ;  at  the  same  time  pro- 
ducing four  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

"Well,"  said  the  Jew,  inspecting  them  closely  :  "they're 
very  good  ones,  very.  You  haven't  marked  them  well, 
though,  Charley  ;  so  the  marks  shall  be  picked  out  with  a 
needle,  and  we'll  teach  Oliver  how  to  do  it.  Shall  us,  Oliver, 
eh  ?     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Oliver. 

"  You'd  like  to  be  able  to  make  pocket-handkerchiefs  as 
easy  as  Charley  Bates,  wouldn't  you,  my  dear  ? "  said  the 
Jew. 

"Very  much,  indeed,  if  you'll  teach  me,  sir,"  replied 
Oliver. 

Master  Bates  saw  something  so  exquisitely  ludicrous  in  this 
reply,  that  he  burst  into  another  laugh  ;  which  laugh,  meet- 
ing the  c'offee  he  was  drinking,  and  carrying  it  down  some 
wrong  channel,  very  nearly  terminated  in  his  premature  suf- 
focation. 

"  He  is  so  jolly  green  !  "  said  Charley  when  he  recovered, 
as  an  apology  to  the  company  for  his  impolite  behavior. 

The  Dodger  said  nothing,  but  he  smoothed  Oliver's  hair  over 
his  eyes,  and  said  he'd  know  better  by  and  by  ;  upon  which 
theold  gentleman,  observing  Oliver's  color  mounting,  changed 
the  subject  by  asking  whether  there  had  been  much  of  a 
crowd  at  the  exhibition  that  morning?  This  made  him 
wonder  more  and  more  ;  for  it  was  plain  from  the  replies  of 
the  two  boys  that  they  had  both  been  there  ;  and  Oliver 
naturally  wondered  how  they  could  possibly  have  found  time 
to  be  so  very  industrious. 

When  the  breakfast  was  cleared  away,  the  merry  old  gen- 
tleman and  the  two  boys  played  at  a  very  curious  and  un- 
common game,  which  was  performed  in  this  way  :  The  merry 
old  gentleman,  placing  a  snuff-box  in  one  pocket  of  his 
trowsers,  a  note-case  in  the  other,  and  a  watch  in  his  waist- 
coat pocket,  with  a  guard-chain  round  his  neck,  and  sticking 
a  mock-diamond  pin  in  his  shirty  buttoned  his  coat  tight 
around  him,  and  putting  his  spectacle-case  and  handkerchief 
in  his  pocket,  trotted  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  stick,  in 


OLIVER  TWIST.  69 

imitation  of  the  manner  in  which  old  gentlemen  walk  about 
the  streets  any  hour  in  the  day.  Sometimes  he  stopped  at 
the  fire-place,  and  sometimes  at  the  door,  making  believe 
that  he  was  staring  with  all  his  might  into  shop-windows. 
At  such  times  he  would  look  constantly  round  him,  for  fear 
of  thieves,  and  would  keep  slapping  all  his  pockets  in  turn, 
to  see  that  he  hadn't  lost  any  thing,  in  such  a  very  funny  and 
natural  manner,  that  Oliver  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down 
his  face.  All  this  time  the  two  boys  followed  him  closely 
about,  getting  out  of  his  sight,  so  nimbly,  every  time  he 
turned  round,  that  it  was  impossible  to  follow  their  motions. 
At  last,  the  Dodger  trod  upon  his  toes,  or  ran  upon  his  boot 
accidentally,  while  Charley  Bates  stumbled  up  against  him 
behind  ;  and  in  that  one  moment  they  took  from  him,  with 
the  most  extraordinary  rapidity,  snuff-box,  note-case,  watch- 
guard,  chain,  shirt-pin,  pocket-handkerchief,  even  the  spec- 
tacle-case. If  the  old  gentleman  felt  a  hand  in  any  one  of 
his  pockets,  he  cried  out  where  it  was  ;  and  then  the  game 
began  all  over  again. 

When  this  game  had  been  played  a  great  many  times,  a 
couple  of  young  ladies  called  to  see  the  young  gentlemen  ; 
one  of  whom  was  named  Bet,  and  the  other  Nancy.  They 
wore  a  good  deal  of  hair,  not  very  neatly  turned  up  behind, 
and  were  rather  untidy  about  the  shoes  and  stockings.  They 
were  not  exactly  pretty,  perhaps  ;  but  they  had  a  great  deal 
of  color  in  their  faces,  and  looked  quite  stout  and  hearty. 
Being  remarkably  free  and  agreeable  in  their  manners,  Oliver 
thought  them  very  nice  girls  indeed.  And  there  is  no  doubt 
they  were. 

These  visitors  stopped  a  long  time.  Spirits  were  produced, 
in  consequence  of  one  of  the  young  ladies  complaining  of  a 
coldness  in  her  inside  ;  and  the  conversation  took  a  very 
convivial  and  improving  turn.  At  length  Charley  Bates  ex- 
pressed his  opinion  that  it  was  time  to  pad  the  hoof.  This, 
it  occurred  to  Oliver,  must  be  French  for  going  out ;  for, 
directly  afterward,  the  Dodger,  and  Charley,  and  the  two 
young  ladies  went  away  together,  having  been  kindly  fur- 
nished by  the  amiable  old  Jew  with  money  to  spend. 

"  There,  my  dear,"  said  Fagan.  "  That's  a  pleasant  life, 
isn't  it  ?     They  have  gone  out  for  the  day." 

"  Have  they  done  work,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Oliver. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Jew  ;  "  that  is,  unless  they  should  unex- 
pectedly come  across  any  when  they  are  out ;  and  they  won't 


70  OLIVER  TWIST. 

neglect  it,  if  they  do,  my  dear  depend  upon  it.  Make  'em 
your  models,  my  dear.  Make  'em  your  models,"  tapping  the 
fire-shovel  on  the  hearth  to  add  force  to  his  words  :  ■■  do 
every  thing  they  bid  you,  and  take  their  advice  in  all  mat- 
ters— especially  the  Dodger's,  my  dear.  He'll  be  a  great 
man  himself,  and  will  make  you  one  too,  if  you  take  pattern 
by  him.  Is  my  handkerchief  hanging  out  of  my  pocket,  my 
dear  ?  "  stopping  short. 

"  Yes,  sir,"    said  Oliver. 

"  See  if  you  can  take  it  out,  without  my  feeling  it,  as  you 
saw  them  do  when  we  were  at  play  this  morning." 

Oliver  held  up  the  bottom  of  the  pocket  with  one  hand,  as 
he  had  seen  the  Dodger  hold  it,  and  drew  the  handkerchief 
lightly  out  of  it  with  the  other. 

"  Is  it  gone  ? "  cried  the  Jew. 

"  Here  it  is,  sir,"  said  Oliver,  showing  it  in  his  hand. 

"You're  a  clever  boy,  my  dear/'  said  the  playful  old  gen- 
tleman, patting  Oliver  on  the  head  approvingly.  "  I  never 
saw  a  sharper  lad.  Here's  a  shilling  for  you.  If  you  go  on 
in  this  way,  you'll  be  the  greatest  man  of  the  time.  And  now 
come  here,  and  I'll  show  you  how  to  take  the  marks  out  of 
the  handkerchiefs." 

Oliver  wondered  what  picking  the  old  gentleman's  pocket 
in  play  had  to  do  with  his  chances  of  being  a  great  man. 
But,  thinking  that  the  Jew,  being  so  much  his  senior,  must 
know  best,  he  followed  him  quietly  to  the  table,  and  was  soon 
deeply  involved  in  his  new  study. 


CHAPTER  X.   * 

OLIVER  BECOMES  BETTER  ACQUAINTED  WITH  THE  CHAR- 
ACTERS OF  HIS  NEW  ASSOCIATES  AND  PURCHASES  EX- 
PERIENCE AT  A  HIGH  PRICE.  BEING  A  SHORT  BUT  VERY 
IMPORTANT    CHAPTER    IN    THIS    HISTORY. 

For  many  days  Oliver  remained  in  the  Jew's  room,  pick- 
ing the  marks  out  of  the  pocket-handkerchiefs,  (of  which  a 
great  number  were  brought  home,)  and  sometimes  taking 
part  in  the  game  already  described,  which  the  two  boys  and 
the  Jew  played,  regularly,  every  morning.  At  length  he  be- 
gan to  languish  for   fresh  air,  and  took  many  occasions  of 


OLIVER  TWIST.  71 

earnestly  entreating  the  old  gentleman  to  allow  him  to  go 
out  to  work,  with  his  two  companions. 

Oliver  was  rendered  the  more  anxious  to  be  actively  em- 
ployed, by  what,  he  had  seen  of  the  stern  morality  of  the  old 
gentleman's  character.  Whenever  the  Dodger  or  Charley 
Bates  came  home  at  night  empty-handed,  he  would  expati- 
ate with  great  vehemence  on  the  misery  of  idle  and  lazy 
habits  ;  and  would  enforce  upon  them  the  necessity  of  an 
active  life,  by  sending  them  supperless  to  bed.  On  one  oc- 
casion, indeed,  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  knock  them  both  down 
a  flight  of  stairs  ;  but  this  was  carrying  out  his  virtuous  pre- 
cepts to  an  unusual  extent. 

At  length,  one  morning,  Oliver  obtained  the  permission  he 
had  so  eagerly  sought.  There  had  been  no  handkerchiefs  to 
work  upon  for  two  or  three  days,  and  the  dinners  had  been 
rather  meager.  Perhaps  these  were  reasons  for  the  old  gen- 
tleman's giving  his  assent ;  but,  whether  they  were  or  no,  he 
told  Oliver  he  might  go,  and  placed  him  under  the  joint 
guardianship  of  Charley  Bates  and  his  friend  the  Dodger. 

The  three  boys  sallied  out  ;  the  Dodger  with  his  coat- 
sleeves  tucked  up,  and  his  hat  cocked,  as  usual  ;  Master 
Bates  sauntering  along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  ;  and 
Oliver  between  them,  wondering  where  they  were  going,  and 
what  branch  of  manufacture  he  would  be  instructed  in  first. 

The  pace  at  which  they  went  was  such  a  very  lazy,  ill- 
looking  saunter,  that  Oliver  soon  began  to  think  his  compan- 
ions were  going  to  deceive  the  old  gentleman,  by  not  going 
to  work  at  all.  The  Dodger  had  a  vicious  propensity,  too, 
of  pulling  the  caps  from  the  heads  of  small  boys  and  tossing 
them  down  areas  ;  while  Charley  Bates  exhibited  some  very 
loose  notions  concerning  the  rights  of  property,  by  pilfering 
divers  apples  and  onions  from  the  stalls  at  the  kennel  sides, 
and  thrusting  them  into  pockets  which  were  so  surprisingly 
capacious,  that  they  seemed  to  undermine  his  whole  suit  of 
clothes  in  every  direction.  These  things  looked  so  bad  that 
Oliver  was  on  the  point  of  declaring  his  intention  of  seek- 
ing his  way  back  in  the  best  way  he  could  ;  when  his 
thoughts  were  suddenly  directed  into  another  channel  by  a 
very  mysterious  change  of  behavior  on  the  part  of  the 
Dodger. 

They  were  just  emerging  from  a  narrow  court  not  far  from 
the  open  square  in  Clerkenwell,  which  is  yet  called,  by  some 
strange  perversion  of  terms,  "  The  Green,"  when  the  Dodger 


72  OLIVER  TWIST. 

made  a  sudden  stop  ;  and,  laying  his  finger  on  his  lip,  drew 
his  companions  back  again,  with  the  greatest  caution  and 
circumspection. 

"What's  the  matter?"  demanded  Oliver. 

"  Hush  !  "  replied  the  Dodger.  "  Do  you  see  that  old  cove 
at  the  book-stall  ? " 

"  The  old  gentleman  over  the  way  ?  "  said  Oliver.  "  Yes, 
I  see  him." 

"  He'll  do,"  said  the  Dodger. 

"A  prime  plant,"  observed  Master  Charley  Bates. 

Oliver  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  with  the  greatest  sur- 
prise ;  but  he  was  not  permitted  to  make  any  inquiries  ;  for 
the  two  boys  walked  stealthily  across  the  road,  and  slunk 
close  behind  the  old  gentleman  toward  whom  his  attention 
had  been  directed.  Oliver  walked  a  few  paces  after  them  ; 
and,  not  knowing  whether  to  advance  or  retire,  stood  look- 
ing on  in  silent  amazement. 

The  old  gentleman  was  a  very  respectable-looking  person- 
age, with  a  powdered  head  and  gold  spectacles.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  bottle-green  coat  with  a  black  velvet  collar  ; 
wore  white  trowsers  ;  and  carried  a  smart  bamboo  cane  under 
his  arm.  He  had  taken  up  a  book  from  the  stall,  and  there 
he  stood,  reading  away  as  hard  as  if  he  were  in  his  elbow- 
chair  in  his  own  study.  It  is  very  possible  that  he  fancied 
himself  there,  indeed;  for  it  was  plain,  from  his  abstraction, 
that  he  saw  not  the  book-stall,  nor  the  street,  nor  the  boys, 
nor,  in  short,  any  thing  but  the  book  itself,  which  he  was 
reading  straight  through,  turning  over  the  leaf  when  he  got 
to  the  bottom  of  a  page,  beginning  at  the  top  line  of  the 
next  one,  and  going  regularly  on,  with  the  greatest  interest 
and  eagerness. 

What  was  Oliver's  horror  and  alarm  as  he  stood  a  few 
paces  off,  looking  on  with  his  eyelids  as  wide  open  as  they 
would  possibly  go,  to  see  the  Dodger  plunge  his  hand  into 
the  old  gentleman's  pocket,  and  draw  from  thence  a  handker- 
chief !  To  see  him  hand  the  same  to  Charley  Bates  ;  and 
finally  to  behold  them  both  running  away  round  the  corner 
at  full  speed  ! 

In  an  instant  the  whole  mystery  of  the  handkerchiefs,  and 
the  watches,  and  the  jewels,  and  the  Jew,  rushed  upon  the 
boy's  mind.  He  stood,  for  a  moment,  with  the  blood  so  ting- 
ling through  all  his  veins  from  terror,  that  he  felt  as  if  he 
were   in  a  burning  fire  ;  then,  confused  and  frightened,  he 


OLIVER  TWIST.  73 

took  to  his  heels  ;  and,  not  knowing  what  he  did,  made  off 
as  fast  as  he  could  lay  his  feet  to  the  ground. 

This  was  all  done  in  a  minute's  space.  In  the  very  instant 
when  Oliver  began  to  run  the  old  gentleman,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  pocket,  and  missing  his  handkerchief,  turned 
sharp  round.  Seeing  the  boy  scudding  away  at  such  a  rapid 
pace,  he  very  naturally  concluded  him  to  be  the  depredator; 
and,  shouting  "  Stop  thief  !  "  with  all  his  might,  made  off 
after  him,  book  in  hand. 

But  the  old  gentleman  was  not  the  only  person  who  raised 
the  hue-and-cry.  The  Dodger  and  Master  Bates,  unwilling 
to  attract  public  attention  by  running  down  the  open  street, 
had  merely  retired  into  the  very  first  door-way  round  the 
corner.  They  no  sooner  heard  the  cry,  and  saw  Oliver  run- 
ning, than,  guessing  exactly  how  the  matter  stood,  they 
issued  forth  with  great  promptitude  ;  and,  shouting  "  Stop 
thief  !  "  too,  joined  in  the  pursuit  like  good  citizens. 

Although  Oliver  had  been  brought  up  by  philosophers,  he 
was  not  theoretically  acquainted  with  the  beautiful  axiom 
that  self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature.  If  he  had  he 
would  have  been  prepared  for  this.  Not  being  prepared, 
however,  it  alarmed  him  the  more  ;  so  away  he  went  like  the 
wind,  with  the  old  gentleman  and  the  two  boys  roaring  and 
shouting  behind  him. 

"  Stop  thief  !  "  There  is  a  magic  in  the  sound.  The 
tradesman  leaves  his  counter,  and  the  carman  his  wagon  ; 
the  butcher  throws  down  his  tray  ;  the  baker  his  basket  ; 
the  milkman  his  pail ;  the  errand-boy  his  parcels;  the  school 
boy  his  marbles  ;  the  pavior  his  pick-ax  ;  the  child  his  bat- 
tledoor.  Away  they  run,  pell-mell,  helter-skelter,  slap-dash: 
tearing,  yelling,  screaming,  knocking  down  the  passengers  as 
they  turn  the  corners,  rousing  the  dogs,  and  astonishing  the 
fowls;  and  streets,  squares,  and  courts,  re-echo  with  the  sound. 

"  Stop  thief  !  Stop  thief  <"  The  cry  is  taken  up  by  a 
hundred  voices,  and  the  crowd  accumulate  at  every  turning. 
Away  they  fly,  splashing  through  the  mud,  and  rattling 
along  the  pavements  ;  up  go  the  windows,  out  go  the  peo- 
ple, onward  bear  the  mob — a  whole  audience  desert  Punch 
in  the  very  thickest  of  the  plot,  and,  joining  the  rushing 
throng,  swell  the  shout,  and  lend  fresh  vigor  to  the  cry,  "  Stop 
thief  !     Stop  thief !" 

"  Stop  thief!  Stop  thief  !  "  There  is  a  passion  for  hunt- 
ing something  deeply  implanted  in  the  human  breast.      One 


74  OLIVER  TWIST. 

wretched  breathless  child,  panting  with  exhaustion  ;  terror 
in  his  looks  ;  agony  in  his  eyes  ;  large  drops  of  perspiration 
streaming  down  his  face  ;  strains  every  nerve  to  make  head 
upon  his  pursuers  ;  and  as  they  follow  on  his  track,  and 
gain  upon  him  every  instant,  they  hail  his  decreasing  strength 
with  still  louder  shouts,  and  whoop  and  scream  with  joy. 
"  Stop  thief  !  "  Ay,  stop  him,  for  God's  sake,  were  it  only  in 
mercy  ! 

Stopped  at  last  !  A  clever  blow.  He  is  down  upon  the 
pavement ;  and  the  crowd  eagerly  gather  round  him  :  each 
new-comer  jostling  and  struggling  with  the  others  to  catch  a 
glimpse.  "  Stand  aside  !  "  "  Give  him  a  little  air  !  "  "Non- 
sense !  he  don't  deserve  it  !  "  "  Where's  the  gentleman  ?  " 
"  Here  he  is,  coming  down  the  street."  "  Make  room  there 
for  the  gentleman  !  "     "  Is  this  the  boy,  sir  ?  "        Yes." 

Oliver  lay  covered  with  mud  and  dust,  and  bleeding  from 
the  mouth,  looking  wildly  round  upon  the  heap  of  faces  that 
surrounded  him,  when  the  old  gentleman  was  officiously 
dragged  and  pushed  into  the  circle  by  the  foremost  of  the 
pursuers. 

"Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  afraid  it  is  the  boy." 

"Afraid,"  murmured  the  crowd.     "  That's  a  good  'un  !  " 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  "  he  has  hurt  him- 
self." 

"  I  did  that,  sir,"  said  a  great  lubberly  fellow,  stepping  for- 
ward ;  "  and  preciously  I  cut  my  knuckle  agin'  his  mouth. 
I  stopped  him,  sir." 

The  fellow  touched  his  hat  with  a  grin,  expecting  some- 
thing for  his  pains  ;  but  the  old  gentleman,  eyeing  him  with 
an  expression  of  dislike,  looked  anxiously  round,  as  if  he  con- 
templated running  away  himself:  which  it  is  very  possible  he 
might  have  attempted  to  do,  and  thus  have  afforded  another 
chase,  had  not  a  police  officer  (who  is  generally  the  last 
person  to  arrive  in  such  cases)  at  that  moment  made 
his  way  through  the  crowd,  and  seized  Oliver  by  the  collar. 

"  Come,  get  up,"  said  the  man  roughly. 

"  It  wasn't  me,  indeed,  sir.  Indeed,  indeed,  it  was  two 
other  boys,"  said  Oliver,  clasping  his  hands  passionately,  and 
looking  round.     "  They  are  here  somewhere." 

"  Oh  no,  they  ain't,"  said  the  officer.  He  meant  this  to 
be  ironical,  but  it  was  true  besides  ;  for  the  Dodger  and 
Charley  Bates  had  filed  off  down  the  first  convenient  court 
they  came  to.     "  Come,  get  up  !  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  75 

"  Don't  hurt  him,"  said  the  old  gentleman  compassionately. 

"Oh,  no,  I  won't  hurt  him,"  replied  the  officer,  tearing  his 
jacket  half  off  his  back,  in  proof  thereof.  "  Come,  I  know 
you  ;  it  won't  do.  Will  you  stand  upon  your  legs,  you 
young  devil  ?  " 

Oliver  who  could  hardly  stand,  made  a  shift  to  raise  him 
self  on  his  feet,  and  was  at  once  lugged  along  the  streets  by 
the  jacket-collar  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  gentleman  walked  on 
with  them  by  the  officer's  side  ;  and  as  many  of  the  crowd 
as  could  achieve  the  feat  got  a  little  ahead,  and  stared  back  at 
Oliver  from  time  to  time.  The  boys  shouted  in  triumph  ; 
and  on  they  went.  __ 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TREATS  OF  MR.  FANG,  THE  POLICE  MAGISTRATE  ;  AND  FUR- 
NISHES A  SLIGHT  SPECIMEN  OF  HIS  MODE  OF  ADMINISTERING 
JUSTICE. 

The  offense  had  been  committed  within  the  district,  and 
indeed  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of,  a  very  notorious 
metropolitan  police  office.  The  crowd  had  only  the  satisfac- 
tion of  accompanying  Oliver  through  two  or  three  streets, 
and  down  a  place  called  Mutton  Hill,  when  he  was  led  be- 
neath a  low  archway,  and  up  a  dirty  court,  into  this  dispen- 
sary of  summary  justice,  by  the  back  way.  It  was  a  small 
paved  yard  into  which  they  turned  ;  and  here  they  encoun- 
tered a  stout  man  with  a  bunch  of  whiskers  on  his  face,  and 
a  bunch  of  keys  in  his  hand. 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ? "  said  the  man  carelessly. 

"  A  young  f ogle-hunter,"  replied  the  man  who  had  Oliver 
in  charge. 

"  Are  you  the  party  that's  been  robbed,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the 
man  with  the  keys. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  but  I  am  not 
sure  that  this  boy  actually  took  the  handkerchief.  I — I 
^vould  rather  not  press  the  case." 

"  Must  go  before  the  magistrate  now,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 
"  His  worship  will  be  disengaged  in  half  a  minute.  Now, 
young  gallows  ! " 

This  was  an  invitation  for  Oliver  to  enter  through  a  door 


76  OLIVER  TWIST. 

which  he  unlocked  as  he  spoke,  and  which  led  into  a  stone 
cell.  Here  he  was  searched,  and,  nothing  being  found 
upon  him,  locked  up. 

This  cell  was  in  shape  and  size  something  like  an  area 
cellar,  only  not  so  light.  It  was  most  intolerably  dirty  ;  for 
it  was  Monday  morning  ;  and  it  had  been  tenanted  by  six 
drunken  people,  who  had  been  locked  up,  elsewhere,  since 
Saturday  night.  But  this  is  little.  In  our  station-houses, 
men  and  women  are  every  night  confined  on  the  most  trivial 
charges — the  word  is  worth  noting — in  dungeons,  compared 
with  which,  those  in  Newgate,  occupied  by  the  most  atro- 
cious felons  tried,  found  guilty,  and  under  sentence  of  death, 
are  palaces.     Let  any  one  who  doubts  this  compare  the  two. 

The  old  gentleman  looked  almost  as  rueful  as  Oliver  when 
the  key  grated  in  the  lock.  He  turned  with  a  sigh  to  the 
book,  which  had  been  the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  disturb- 
ance. 

"  There  is  something  in  that  boy's  face,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman to  himself  as  he  walked  slowly  away,  tapping  his  chin 
with  the  cover  of  the  book,  in  a  thoughtful  manner  ;  "  some- 
thing that  touches  and  interests  me.  Can  he  be  innocent  ? 
He  looked  like. — By  the  by,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentle- 
man, halting  very  abruptly,  and  staring  up  into  the  sky, 
"Bless  my  soul  !  Where  have  I  seen  something  like  that 
look  before  ? " 

After  musing  for  some  minutes,  the  old  gentleman  walked, 
with  the  same  meditative  face,  into  a  back  anteroom  open- 
ing from  the  yard  ;  and  there,  retiring  into  a  corner,  called 
up  before  his  mind's  eye  a  vast  amphitheater  of  faces  over 
which  a  dusky  curtain  had  hung  for  many  years.  "  No," 
said  the  old  gentleman,  shaking  his  head  ;  *  it  must  be  im- 
agination." 

He  wandered  over  them  again.  He  had  called  them  into 
view,  and  it  was  not  easy  to  replace  the  shroud  that  had  so 
long  concealed  them.  There  were  the  faces  of  friends,  and 
foes,  and  of  many  that  had  been  almost  strangers  peering 
intrusively  from  the  crowd  ;  there  were  the  faces  of  young 
and  blooming  girls  that  were  now  old  women ;  there  were 
faces  that  the  grave  had  changed  and  closed  upon,  but 
which  the  mind,  superior  to  its  power,  still  dressed  in  their 
old  freshness  and  beauty,  calling  back  the  luster  of  the  eyes, 
the  brightness  of  the  smile,  the  beaming  of  the  soul  through 
its   mask   of   clay,  and  whispering    of  beauty   beyond   the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  77 

tomb,  changed  but  to  be  heightened,  and  taken  from  earth 
only  to  be  set  up  as  a  light,  to  shed  a  soft  and  gentle  glow 
upon  the  path  to  heaven. 

But  the  old  gentleman  could  recall  no  one  countenance  of 
which  Oliver's  features  bore  a  trace.  So  he  heaved  a  sigh 
over  the  recollections  he  had  awakened  ;  and  being,  happily 
for  himself,  an  absent  old  gentleman,  buried  them  again  in 
the  pages  of  the  musty  book. 

He  was  roused  by  a  touch  on  the  shoulder,  and  a  request 
from  the  man  with  the  keys  to  follow  him  into  the  office. 
He  closed  his  book  hastily,  and  was  at  once  ushered  into 
the  imposing  presence  of  the  renowned  Mr.  Fang. 

The  office  was  a  front  parlor,  with  a  paneled  wall.  Mr. 
Fang  sat  behind  a  bar,  at  the  upper  end  ;  and  on  one  side  the 
door  was  a  sort  of  wooden  pen  in  which  poor  little  Oliver 
was  already  deposited  ;  trembling  very  much  at  the  awful- 
ness  of  the  scene. 

Mr.  Fang  was  a  lean,  long-backed,  stiff-necked,  middle- 
sized  man,  with  no  great  quantity  of  hair,  and  what  he  had, 
growing  on  the  back  and  sides  of  his  head.  His  face  was 
stern,  and  much  flushed.  If  he  were  really  not  in  the  habit 
of  drinking  rather  more  than  what  was  exactly  good  for  him, 
he  might  have  brought  an  action  against  his  countenance  for 
libel,  and  have  recovered  heavy  damages. 

The  old  gentleman  bowed  respectfully  ;  and  advancing  to 
the  magistrate's  desk,  said,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
"  That  is  my  name  and  address,  sir."  He  then  withdrew  a 
pace  or  two  ;  and,  with  another  polite  and  gentlemanly  in- 
clination of  the  head,  waited  to  be  questioned. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Fang  was  at  that  moment 
perusing  a  leading  article  in  a  newspaper  of  the  morning, 
adverting  to  some  recent  decision  of  his,  and  commending 
him,  for  the  three  hundred  and  fiftieth  time,  to  the  special 
and  particular  notice  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home 
Department.  He  was  out  of  temper  ;  and  he  looked  up 
with  an  angry  scowl. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  said  Mr.  Fang. 

The  old  gentleman  pointed,  with  some  surprise,  to  his 
card. 

"Officer!"  said  Mr.  Fang,  tossing  the  card  contemptu- 
ously away  with  the  newspaper.     "  Who  is  this  fellow  ?  " 

"  My  name,  sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  speaking  like  a 
gentleman,  "  my  name,  sir,  is  Brownlow.     Permit  me  to  in- 


75  OLIVER  TWIST. 

quire  the  name  of  the  magistrate  who  offers  a  gratuitous 
and  unprovoked  insult  to  a  respectable  person,  under  the 
protection  of  the  bench."  Saying  this,  Mr.  Brownlow 
looked  round  the  office  as  if  in  search  of  some  person  who 
would  afford  him  the  required  information. 

"  Officer  !  "  said  Mr.  Fang,  throwing  the  paper  on  one 
side,  "  what's  this  fellow  charged  with  ? " 

"  He's  not  charged  at  all,  your  worship,"  replied  the 
officer.     "  He  appears  against  the  boy,  your  worship." 

His  worship  knew  this  perfectly  well  ;  but  it  was  a  good 
annoyance,  and  a  safe  one. 

"  Appears  against  the  boy,  does  he  ? "  said  Fang,  survey- 
ing Mr.  Brownlow  contemptuously  from  head  to  foot. 
"  Swear  him  !  " 

"  Before  I  am  sworn,  I  must  beg  to  say  one  word,"  said 
Mr.  Brownlow  :  "  and  that  is,  that  I  really  never,  without 
actual  experience,  could  have  believed — " 

"Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Fang,  peremptorily. 

"  I  will  not,  sir  !  "  replied  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  this  instant,  or  I'll  have  you  turned 
out  of  the  office  !  "  said  Mr.  Fang.  "  You're  an  insolent, 
impertinent  fellow.     How  dare  you  bully  a  magistrate  ?  " 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  reddening. 

"  Swear  this  person,"  said  Fang  to  the  clerk.  "I'll  not 
hear  another  word.     Swear  him." 

Mr.  Brownlow's  indignation  was  greatly  roused  ;  but  re- 
flecting, perhaps,  that  he  might  only  injure  the  boy  by  giving 
vent  to  it,  he  suppressed  his  feelings  and  submitted  to  be 
sworn  at  once. 

"  Now,"  said  Fang,  "  what's  the  charge  against  this  boy  ? 
What  have  you  got  to  say,  sir  ?" 

"I  was  standing  at  a  book-stall — "  Mr.  Brownlow  began. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Fang.  "  Policeman  ! 
Where's  the  policeman  ?  Here,  swear  this  policeman.  Now, 
policeman,  what  is  this  ?  " 

The  policeman,  with  becoming  humility,  related  how  he 
had  taken  the  charge  ;  how  he  had  searched  Oliver,  and 
found  nothing  on  his  person  ;  and  how  that  was  all  he  knew 
about  it. 

"  Are  there  any  witnesses  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Fang. 

"  None,  your  worship,"  replied  the  policeman. 

Mr.  Fang  sat  silent  for  some  minutes,  and  then,  turning 
round  to  the  prosecutor,  said  in  a  towering  passion, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  79 

"  Do  you  mean  to  state  what  your  complaint  against  this 
boy  is,  man,  or  do  you  not  ?  You  have  been  sworn.  Now, 
if  you  stand  there,  refusing  to  give  evidence,  I'll  punish  you 
for  disrespect  to  the  bench  ;  I  will,  by — " 

By  what,  or  by  whom,  nobody  knows,  for  the  clerk  and 
jailer  coughed  very  loud,  just  at  the  right  moment ;  and 
the  former  dropped  a  heavy  book  upon  the  floor,  thus 
preventing  the  word  from  being  heard — accidentally,  of 
course. 

With  many  interruptions,  and  repeated  insults,  Mr. 
Brownlow  contrived  to  state  his  case  ;  observing  that,  in  the 
surprise  of  the  moment,  he  had  run  after  the  boy  because  he 
saw  him  running  away  ;  and  expressing  his  hope  that,  if  the 
magistrate  should  believe  him,  although  not  actually  the 
thief,  to  be  connected  with  thieves,  he  would  deal  as 
leniently  with  him  as  justice  would  allow. 

"He  has  been  hurt  already,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  in 
conclusion.  "  And  I  fear,"  he  added,  with  great  energy, 
looking  toward  the  bar,  "  I  really  fear  that  he  is  ill." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  I  dare  say  !  "  said  Mr.  Fang,  with  a  sneer. 
"Come,  none  of  your  tricks  here,  you  young  vagabond; 
they  won't  do.     "  What's  your  name  ? " 

Oliver  tried  to  reply,  but  his  tongue  failed  him.  He  was 
deadly  pale  ;  and  the  whole  place  seemed  turning  round  and 
round. 

"  What's  your  name,  you  hardened  scoundrel  ?"  demanded 
Mr.  Fang.     "Officer,  what's  his  name  ?  " 

This  was  addressed  to  a  bluff  old  fellow  in  a  striped  waist- 
coat, who  was  standing  by  the  bar.  He  bent  over  Oliver, 
and  repeated  the  inquiry  ;  but  finding  him  really  incapable 
of  understanding  the  question,  and  knowing  that  his  not  re- 
plying would  only  infuriate  the  magistrate  the  more,  and  add 
to  the  severity  of  his  sentence,  he  hazarded  a  guess. 

"  He  says  his  name's  Tom  White,  your  worship,"  said  this 
kind-hearted  thief- taker. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  speak  out,  won't  he  ?  "  said  Fang.  "  Very 
well,  very  well.     Where  does  he  live  ? " 

"Where  he  can,  your  worship,"  replied  the  officer  ;  again 
pretending  to  receive  Oliver's  answer. 

"  Has  he  any  parents  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Fang. 

"  He  says  they  died  in  his  infancy,  your  worship,"  replied 
the  officer,  hazarding  the  usual  reply. 

At  this  point  of  the  inquiry,  Oliver  raised  his  head  ;  and, 


80  OLIVER  TWIST. 

looking   round   with    imploring    eyes,    murmured    a  feeble 
prayer  for  a  draught  of  water. 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  said  Mr.  Fang:,, "don't  try  to 
make  a  fool  of  me." 

"  I  think  he  really  is  ill,  your  worship,"  remonstrated  the 
officer. 

"  I  know  better,"  said  Mr.  Fang. 

"  Take  care  of  him,  officer,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  rais- 
ing his  hands  instinctively  ;  "  he'll  fall  down." 

Stand    away,    officer,"    cried    Fang ;    "  let   him,  if   he 
likes." 

Oliver  availed  himself  of  the  kind  permission,  and  fell  to 
the  floor  in  a  fainting  fit.  The  men  in  the  office  looked  at 
each  other,  but  no  one  dared  to  stir. 

"  I  knew  he  was  shamming,"  said  Fang,  as  if  this  were 
incontestable  proof  of  the  fact.  "  Let  him  lie  there  ;  he'll 
soon  be  tired  of  that." 

'*  How  do  you  propose  to  deal  with  the  case,  sir  ?  "  in- 
quired the  clerk  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Summarily,"  replied  Mr.  Fang.  "  He  stands  committed 
for  three  months — hard  labor,  of  course.     Clear  the  office." 

The  door  was  opened  for  this  purpose,  and  a  couple  of 
men  were  preparing  to  carry  the  insensible  boy  to  his  cell  ; 
when  an  elderly  man  of  decent  but  poor  appearance,  clad  in 
an  old  suit  of  black,  rushed  hastily  into  the  office,  and  ad- 
vanced toward  the  bench. 

"  Stop,  stop  !  Don't  take  him  away  !  For  Heaven's  sake 
stop  a  moment  !  "  cried  the  new-comer,  breathless  with 
haste. 

Although  the  presiding  Genii  in  such  an  office  as  this  ex- 
ercised a  summary  and  arbitrary  power  over  the  liberties, 
the  good  name,  the  character,  almost  the  lives,  of  Her 
Majesty's  subjects,  especially  of  the  poorer  class ;  and 
although,  within  such  walls,  enough  fantastic  tricks  are  daily 
played  to  make  the  angels  blind  with  weeping  ;  they  are 
closed  to  the  public,  save  through  the  medium  of  the  daily 
press.*  Mr.  Fang  was  consequently  not  a  little  indignant  to 
see  an  unbidden  guest  enter  in  such  irreverent  disorder. 

"  What  is  this  ?  Who  is  this  ?  Turn  this  man  out.  Clear 
the  office  !  "  cried  Mr.  Fang. 

"  I  will  speak,"  cried  the  man  ;  "  I  will  not  be  turned  out. 

*  Or  were  virtually,  then. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  81 

I  saw  it  all.  I  keep  the  book-stall.  I  demand  to  be  sworn. 
I  will  not  be  put  down.  Mr.  Fang,  you  must  hear  me. 
You  must  not  refuse,  sir." 

The  man  was  right.  His  manner  was  determined  ;  and 
the  matter  was  growing  rather  too  serious  to  be  hushed   up. 

*•■  Swear  the  man,"  growled  Mr.  Fang,  with  a  very  ill 
grace.     "  Now,  man,  what  have  you  got  to  say  ?" 

"  This,"  said  the  man  :  "  I  saw  three  boys — two  others 
and  the  prisoner  here — loitering  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way,  when  this  gentleman  was  reading.  The  robbery  was 
committed  by  another  boy.  I  saw  it  done  ;  and  I  saw  that 
this  boy  was  perfectly  amazed  and  stupefied  by  it."  Having 
by  this  time  recovered  a  little  breath,  the  worthy  book-stall 
keeper  proceeded  to  relate,  in  a  more  coherent  manner,  the 
exact  circumstances  of  the  robbery. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  here  before?  "  said  Fang,  after  a 
pause. 

"  I  hadn't  a  soul  to  mind  the  shop,"  replied  the  man. 
"  Every  body  who  could  have  helped  me  had  joined  in  the 
pursuit.  I  could  get  nobody  till  five  minutes  ago  ;  and  I 
have  run  here  all  the  way." 

"The  prosecutor  was  reading,  was  he?"  inquired  Fang, 
after  another  pause. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  man.  "  The  very  book  he  has  in  his 
hand." 

"  Oh,  that  book,  eh  ? "  said  Fang.     "  Is  it  paid  for  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  replied  the  man,  with  a  smile. 

"  Dear  me,  I  forgot  all  about  it !  "  exclaimed  the  absent 
old  gentleman,  innocently. 

"  A  nice  person  to  prefer  a  charge  against  a  poor  boy  !  " 
said  Fang,  with  a  comical  effort  to  look  humane.  "  I  con- 
sider, sir,  that  you  have  obtained  possession  of  that  book 
under  very  suspicious  and  disreputable  circumstances  ;  and 
you  may  think  yourself  very  fortunate  that  the  owner  of  the 
property  declines  to  prosecute.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
my  man,  or  the  law  will  overtake  you  yet.  The  boy  is  dis- 
charged.    Clear  the  office." 

"  D — n  me  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman,  bursting  out  with 
the  rage  he  had  kept  down  so  long,  "d — n  me  !  I'll — " 

"  Clear  the  office  !  "  said  the  magistrate.  "  Officers,  do 
you  hear?     Clear  the  office  !  " 

The  mandate  was  obeyed  ;  and  the  indignant  Mr.  Brown- 
low  was  conveyed  out,  with  the  book  in  one  hand  and  the 


82  OLIVER  TWIST. 

bamboo  cane  in  the  other,  in  a  perfect  frenzy  of  rage  and 
defiance.  He  reached  the  yard  ;  and  his  passion  vanished 
in  a  moment.  Little  Oliver  Twist  lay  on'  his  back  on  the. 
pavement,  with  his  shirt  unbuttoned,  and  his  temples  bathed 
with  water  ;  his  face  a  deadly  white  ;  and  a  cold  tremble 
convulsing  his  whole  frame. 

"  Poor  boy  !  poor  boy  !  "  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  bending 
over  him.     '•  Call  a  coach,  somebody,  pray.     Directly  !  " 

A  coach  was  obtained,  and  Oliver,  having  been  carefully 
laid  on  one  seat,  the  old  gentleman  got  in  and  sat  himself  on 
the  other. 

"  May  I  accompany  you  ?  "  said  the  book-stall  keeper, 
looking  in. 

"  Bless  me,  yes,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow  quickly. 
"  I  forgot  you.  Dear,  dear  !  I  have  this  unhappy  book 
still  !  Jump  in.     Poor  fellow  !  There's  no  time  to  lose." 

The  book-stall  keeper  got  into  the  coach  ;  and  away  they 
drove. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IN  WHICH  OLIVER  IS  TAKEN  BETTER  CARE  OF  THAN  HE 
EVER  WAS  BEFORE.  AND  IN  WHICH  THE  NARRATIVE 
REVERTS  TO  THE  MERRY  OLD  GENTLEMAN  AND  HIS 
YOUTHFUL    FRIENDS. 

The  coach  rattled  away,  over  nearly  the  same  ground  as 
that  which  Oliver  had  traversed  when  he  first  entered  Lon- 
don in  company  with  the  Dodger  ;  and,  turning  a  different 
way  when  it  reached  the  Angel  at  Islington,  stopped  at 
length  before  a  neat  house,  in  a  quiet  shady  street  near  Pen- 
tonville.  Here  a  bed  was  prepared,  without  loss  of  time,  in 
which  Mr.  Brownlow  saw  his  young  charge  carefully  and 
comfortably  deposited  ;  and  here  he  was  tended  with  a 
kindness  and  solicitude  that  knew  no  bounds. 

But,  for  many  days,  Oliver  remained  insensible  to  all  the 
goodness  of  his  new  friends.  The  sun  rose  and  sank,  and 
rose  and  sank  again,  and  many  times  after  that ;  and  still 
the  boy  lay  stretched  on  his  uneasy  bed,  dwindling  away 
beneath  the  dry  and  wasting  heat  of  fever.  The  worm  does 
not  his  work  more  surely  on  the  dead  body,  than  does  this 
slow  creeping  fire  upon  the  living  frame. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  83 

Weak,  and  thin,  and  pallid,  he  aWoke  at  last  from  what 
seemed  to  have  been  a  long  and  troubled  dream.  Feebly 
raising  himself  in  the  bed,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  trem- 
bling arm,  he  looked  anxiously  around. 

"  What  room  is  this  ?  Where  have  I  been  brought  to  ?  " 
said  Oliver.     "  This  is  not  the  place  I  went  to  sleep  in." 

He  uttered  these  words  in  a  feeble  voice,  being  very  faint 
and  weak  ;  but  they  were  overheard  at  once.  The  curtain 
at  the  bed's  head  was  hastily  drawn  back,  and  a  motherly 
old  lady,  very  neatly  and  precisely  dressed,  rose,  as  she  un- 
drew it,  from  an  arm-chair  close  by,  in  which  she  had  been 
sitting  at  needle-work. 

"  Hush,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  softly.  "You  must 
be  very  quiet,  or  you  will  be  ill  again  ;  and  you  have  been 
very  bad — as  bad  as  bad  could  be,  pretty  nigh.  Lie  down 
again  ;  there's  a  dear  !  "  With  those  words,  the  old  lady 
very  gently  placed  Oliver's  head  upon  the  pillow  ;  and, 
smoothing  back  his  hair  from  his  forehead,  looked  so  kind 
and  lovingly  in  his  face,  that  he  could  not  help  placing  his 
little  withered  hand  in  hers,  and  drawing  it  round  his 
neck. 

"  Save  us  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
"  What  a  grateful  little  dear  it  is  !  Pretty  creetur  !  What 
would  his  mother  feel  if  she  had  sat  by  him  as  I  have,  and 
could  see  him  now  !  " 

"  Perhaps  she  does  see  me,"  whispered  Oliver,  folding  his 
"hands  together  ;  "  perhaps  she  has  sat  by  me.  I  almost  feel 
as  if  she  had." 

"  That  was  the  fever,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady, 
mildly. 

"  I  suppose  it  was,"  replied  Oliver,  "  because  heaven  is  a 
long  way  off  ;  and  they  are  too  happy  there,  to  come  down 
to  the  bedside  of  a  poor  boy.  But  if  she  knew  I  was  ill, 
she  must  have  pitied  me,  even  there  ;  for  she  was  very  ill 
herself  before  she  died.  She  can't  know  any  thing  about 
me,  though,"  added  Oliver,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  If 
she  had  seen  me  hurt,  it  would  have  made  her  sorrowful  ; 
and  her  face  has  always  looked  sweet  and  happy,  when  I 
have  dreamed  of  her." 

The  old  lady  made  no  reply  to  this  ;  but  wiping  her  tears 
first,  and  her  spectacles,  which  lay  on  the  counterpane,  af- 
terward, as  if  they  were  part  and  parcel  of  those  features, 
brought  some  cool  stuff  for  Oliver  to  drink  ;  and  then,  pat- 


84  OLIVER  TWIST. 

ting  him  on  the  cheek,  told  him  he  must  lie  very  quiet,  or  he 
would  be  ill  again. 

£o  Oliver  kept  very  still  ;  partly  because  he  was  anxious 
to  obey  the  kind  old  lady  in  all  things  ;  and  partly,  to  tell 
the  truth,  because  he  was  completely  exhausted  with  what 
he  had  already  said.  He  soon  fell  into  a  gentle  doze,  from 
which  he  was  awakened  by  the  light  of  a  candle  ;  which, 
being  brought  near  the  bed,  showed  him  a  gentleman  with  a 
very  large  and  loud-ticking  gold  watch  in  his  hand,  who 
felt  his  pulse,  and  said  he  was  a  great  deal  better. 

"You  are  a  great  deal  better,  are  you  not,  my  dear?" 
said  the  gentleman. 

"Yes,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are,"  said  the  gentleman.  "You're 
hungry  too,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  No,  sir."  answered  Oliver. 

"  Hem  !  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  No,  I  know  you're  not. 
He  is  not  hungry,  Mrs.  Bedwin,"  said  the  gentleman,  looking 
very  wise. 

The  old  lady  made  a  respectful  inclination  of  the  head, 
which  seemed  to  say  that  she  thought  the  doctor  was  a  very 
clever  man.  The  doctor  appeared  much  of  the  same  opin- 
ion himself. 

"  You  feel  sleepy,  don't  you,  my  dear  ? "  said  the  doc- 
tor. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  very  shrewd  and  satisfied 
look.     "  You  are  not  sleepy.     Nor  thirsty.     Are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  rather  thirsty,"  answered  Oliver. 

"  Just  as  I  expected,  Mrs.  Bedwin,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It's 
very  natural  that  he  should  be  thirsty.  You  may  give  him  a 
little  tea,  ma'am,  and  some  dry  toast  without  any  butter. 
Don't  keep  him  too  warm,  ma'am  ;  but  be  careful  that  you 
don't  let  him  be  too  cold  ;    will  you  have  the  goodness  ?" 

The  old  lady  dropped  a  courtesy.  The  doctor,  after 
tasting  the  cool  stuff,  and  expressing  a  qualified  approval  of 
it,  hurried  away,  his  boots  creaking  in  a  very  important  and 
wealthy  manner  as  he  went  down  stairs. 

Oliver  dozed  off  again  soon  after  this  ;  when  he  awoke,  it 
was  nearly  twelve  o'clock.  The  old  lady  tenderly  bade  him 
good-night  shortly  afterward,  and  left  him  in  charge  of  a  fat 
old  woman  who  had  just  come  ;  bringing  with  her,  in  a  lit- 
tle bundle,  a  small  prayer-book  and  a  large  night-cap.  Putting 


OLIVER  TWIST.  85 

the  latter  on  her  head  and  the  former  on  the  table,  the  old 
woman,  after  telling  Oliver  that  she  had  come  to  sit  up  with 
him,  drew  her  chair  close  to  the  fire  and  went  off  into  a  se- 
ries of  short  naps,  checkered  at  frequent  intervals  with  sun- 
dry tumblings  forward,  and  divers  moans  and  chokings. 
These,  however,  had  no  worse  effect  than  causing  her  to  rub 
her  nose  very  hard,  and  then  fall  asleep  again. 

And  thus  the  night  crept  slowly  on.  Oliver  lay  awake  for 
some  time,  counting  the  little  circles  of  light  which  the  re- 
flection of  the  rush-light  shade  threw  upon  the  ceiling,  or 
tracing  with  his  languid  eyes  the  intricate  pattern  of  the 
paper  on  the  wall.  The  darkness  and  the  deep  stillness  of 
the  room  were  very  solemn  ;  as  they  brought  into  the  boy's 
mind  the  thought  that  death  had  been  hovering  there,  for 
many  days  and  nights,  and  might  yet  fill  it  with  the  gloom 
and  dread  of  his  awful  presence,  he  turned  his  face  upon  the 
pillow,  and  fervently  prayed  to  heaven. 

Gradually  he  fell  into  that  deep  tranquil  sleep  which  ease 
from  recent  suffering  alone  imparts  ;  that  calm  and  peace- 
ful rest  which  it  is  pain  to  wake  from.  Who,  if  this  were 
death,  would  be  roused  again  to  all  the  struggles  and  tur- 
moils of  life  ;  to  all  its  cares  for  the  present,  its  anxieties  for 
the  future  ;  more  than  all,  its  weary  recollections  of  the 
past  ! 

It  had  been  bright  day  for  hours,  when  Oliver  opened  his 
eyes  ;  he  felt  cheerful  and  happy.  The  crisis  of  the  disease 
was  safely  past.     He  belonged  to  the  world  again. 

In  three  days'  time  he  was  able  to  sit  in  an  easy-chair, 
well  propped  up  with  pillows  ;  and,  as  he  was  still  too 
weak  to  walk,  Mrs.  Bedwin  had  him  carried  down  stairs  into 
the  little  housekeeper's  room,  which  belonged  to  her.  Hav- 
ing him  set  here,  by  the  fireside,  the  good  old  lady  sat  her- 
self down  too  ;  and,  being  in  a  state  of  considerable  delight 
at  seeing  him  so  much  better,  forthwith  began  to  cry  most 
violently. 

"  Never  mind  me,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I'm  only 
having  a  regular  good  cry.  There  ;  it's  all  over  now  ;  and 
I'm  quite  comfortable." 

u  You're  very,  very  kind  to  me,  ma'am,"  said  Oliver. 

"  Well,  never  you  mind  that,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
lady  ;  *'  that's  got  nothing  to  do  with  your  broth  ;  and  it's 
full  time  you  had  it  ;  for  the  doctor  says  Mr.  Brownlow  may 
come  in  to  see   you  this  morning,   and  we  must  get  up  our 


56  OLIVER  TWIST. 

best  looks,  because  the  better  we  look  the  more  he'll  be 
pleased."  And  with  this,  the  old  lady  applied  herself  to 
warming  up,  in  a  little  saucepan,  a  basinful  of  broth,  strong 
enough,  Oliver  thought,  to  furnish  an  ample  dinner,  when 
reduced  to  the  regulation  strength,  for  three  hundred  and 
fifty  paupers,  at  the  lowest  computation. 

"Are  you  fond  of  pictures,  dear  ?  "  inquired  the  old  lady, 
seeing  that  Oliver  had  fixed  his  eyes,  most  intently,  on  a 
portrait  which  hung  against  the  wall,  just  opposite  his 
chair. 

"I  don't  quite  know,  ma'am,"  said  Oliver,  without  taking 
his  eyes  from  the  canvas  ;  "  I  have  seen  so  few  that  I  hardly 
know.     What  a  beautiful,  mild  face  that  lady's  is  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  "  painters  always  make  ladies 
out  prettier  than  they  are,  or  they  wouldn't  get  any  custom, 
child.  The  man  that  invented  the  machine  for  taking  like- 
nesses might  have  known  that  would  never  succeed  ;  it's  a 
deal  too  honest.  A  deal,"  said  the  old  lady,  laughing  very 
heartily  at  her  own  acuteness. 

"  Is — is  that  a  likeness,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Oliver. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  up  for  a  moment  from 
the  broth  ;  "  that's  a  portrait." 

"Whose,  ma'am  ?"  asked  Oliver. 

"  Why,  really,  my  dear,  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  old 
lady,  in  a  good-humored  manner.  "  It's  not  a  likeness  of 
any  body  that  you  or  I  know,  I  expect.  It  seems  to  strike 
your  fancy,  dear." 

"  It  is  so  very  pretty,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Why,  sure  you're  not  afraid  of  it  ?  "  said  the  old  lady  ; 
observing,  in  great  surprise,  the  look  of  awe  with  which  the 
child  regarded  the  painting. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  returned  Oliver,  quickly  ;  "but  the  eyes 
look  so -sorrowful  ;  and  where  I  sit,  they  seem  fixed  upon 
me.  It  makes  my  heart  beat,"  added  Oliver  in  a  low  voice, 
"  as  if  it  was  alive,  and  wanted,  to  speak  to  me,  but 
couldn't." 

"  Lord  save  us  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  starting  ; 
"  don't  talk  in  that  way,  child.  You're  weak  and  nervous 
after  your  illness.  Let  me  wheel  your,  chair  round  to  the 
other  side  ;  and  then  you  won't  see  it.  There  !  "  said  the 
old  lady,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  ;  "  you  don't  see  it 
now,  at  all  events." 

Oliver  didszz  it  in  his  mind's  eye  as  distinctly  as  if  he  had 


OLIVER  TWIST.  87 

not  altered  his  position  ;  but  he  thought  it  better  not  to 
worry  the  kind  old  lady  ;  so  he  smiled  gently  when  she 
looked  at  him  ;  and  Mrs.  Bedwin,  satisfied  that  he  felt  more 
comfortable,  salted  and  broke  bits  of  toasted  bread  into  the 
broth,  with  all  the  bustle  befitting  so  solemn  a  preparation. 
Oliver  got  through  it  with  extraordinary  expedition.  He 
had  scarcely  swallowed  the  last  spoonful,  when  there  came 
a  soft  rap  at  the  door.  "  Come  in,"  said  the  old  lady  ;  and 
in  walked  Mr.  Brownlow. 

Now,  the  old  gentleman  came  in  as  brisk  as  need  be  ;  but 
he  had  no  sooner  raised  his  spectacles  on  his  forehead,  and 
thrust  his  hands  behind  the  skirts  of  his  dressing-gown  to 
take  a  good  long  look  at  Oliver,  than  his  countenance  un- 
derwent a  very  great  variety  of  odd  contortions.  Oliver 
looked  very  worn  and  shadowy  from  sickness,  and  made  an 
ineffectual  attempt  to  stand  up,  out  of  respect  to  his  bene- 
factor, which  terminated  in  his  sinking  back  into  the  chair 
again  ;  and  the  fact  is,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  that  Mr. 
Brownlow's  heart,  being  large  enough  for  any  six  ordinary 
old  gentlemen  of  human  disposition,  forced  a  supply  of 
tears  into  his  eyes,  by  some  hydraulic  process  which  we 
are  not  sufficiently  philosophical  to  be  in  a  condition  to 
explain. 

"  Poor  boy  !  poor  boy  !  "  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  clearing  his 
throat.  "  I'm  rather  hoarse  this  morning,  Mrs.  Bedwin. 
I'm  afraid  I  have  caught  cold." 

"  I  hope  not,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bedwin.  "  Every  thing  you 
have  had  has  been  well  aired,  sir." 

"  I  don?t  know,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow  ;  "  I  rather  think  I 
had  a  damp  napkin  at  dinner-time  yesterday  ;  but  never 
mind  that.     How  do  you  feel,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Very  happy,  sir,"  replied  Oliver.  "And  very  grateful 
indeed,  sir,  for  your  goodness  to  me." 

'■  Good  boy,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  stoutly.  "  Have  you 
given  him  any  nourishment,  Bedwin  ?     Any  slops,  eh  ?  " 

"  He  has  just  had  a  basin  of  beautiful  strong  broth,  sir," 
replied  Mrs.  Bedwin,  drawing  herself  up  slightly,  and  lay- 
ing a  strong  emphasis  on  the  last  word,  to  intimate  that 
between  slops  and  broth  well  compounded  there  existed  no 
affinity  or  connection  whatsoever. 

"  Ugh  ! "  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  with  a  slight  shudder  ;  "  a 
couple  of  glasses  of  port-wine  would  have  done  him  a  great 
deal  more  good.     Wouldn't  they,  Tom  White,  eh  ? " 


88  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  My  name  is  Oliver,  sir,"  replied  the  little  invalid,  with  a 
look  of  great  astonishment. 

"  Oliver,"  said  Mr.  Brovvnlow  ;  "  Oliver  what  ?  Oliver 
White,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  Twist — Oliver  Twist." 

"  Queer  name  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  What  made 
you  tell  the  magistrate  your  name  was  White  ?  " 

"  I  never  told  him  so,  sir,"  returned  Oliver,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

This  sounded  so  like  a  falsehood,  that  the  old  gentleman 
looked  somewhat  sternly  in  Oliver's  face.  It  was  impossible 
to  doubt  him  ;  there  was  truth  in  every  one  of  its  thin  and 
sharpened  lineaments. 

"  Some  mistake,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow.  But,  although  his 
motive  for  looking  steadily  at  Oliver  no  longer  existed,  the 
old  idea  of  the  resemblance  between  his  features  and  some 
familiar  face  came  upon  him  so  strongly,  that  he  could  not 
withdraw  his  gaze. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  angry  with  me,  sir  ?  "  said  Oliver, 
raising  his  eyes  beseechingly. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  Why !  what's 
this  ?     Bed  win,  look  there  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  hastily  to  the  picture  above 
Oliver's  head,  and  then  to  the  boy's  face.  There  was  its 
living  copy.  The  eyes,  the  head,  the  mouth — every  feature 
was  the  same.  The  expression  was,  for  the  instant,  so  pre- 
cisely alike,  that  the  minutest  line  seemed  copied  with  start- 
ling accuracy ! 

Oliver  knew  not  the  cause  of  this  sudden  exclamation  ; 
for,  not  being  strong  enough  to  bear  the  start  it  gave  him, 
he  fainted  away.  A  weakness  on  his  part,  which  affords  the 
narrative  an  opportunity  of  relieving  the  reader  from  sus- 
pense, in  behalf  of  the  two  young  pupils  of  the  Merry  Old 
Gentleman  ;  and  of  recording — 

That  when  the  Dodger,  and  his  accomplished  friend  Mas- 
ter Bates,  joined  in  the  hue-and-cry  which  was  raised  at 
Oliver's  heels,  in  consequence  of  their  executing  an  illegal 
conveyance  of  Mr.  Brownlow's  personal  property,  as  has 
been  already  described,  they  were  actuated  by  a  very  laud- 
able and  becoming  regard  for  themselves  ;  and  forasmuch 
as  the  freedom  of  the  subject  and  the  liberty  of  the  indi- 
vidual are  among  the  first  and  proudest  boasts  of  a  true- 
hearted  Englishman,  so,   I  need  hardly  beg  the  reader  to 


OLIVER  TWIST.  89 

observe,  that  this  action  should  tend  to  exalt  them  in  the 
opinion  of  all  public  and  patriotic  men,  in  almost  as  great  a 
degree  as  this  strong  proof  of  their  anxiety  for  their  own 
preservation  and  safety  goes  to  corroborate  and  confirm  the 
little  code  of  laws  which  certain  profound  and  sound-judg- 
ing philosophers  have  laid  down  as  the  mainsprings  of  all 
Nature's  deeds  and  actions ;  the  said  philosophers  very 
wisely  reducing  the  good  lady's  proceedings  to  matters  of 
maxim  an  i  theory,  and  by  a  very  neat  and  pretty  compli- 
ment to  her  exalted  wisdom  and  understanding,  putting  en- 
tirely out  of  sight  any  considerations  of  heart,  or  generous 
impulse  and  feeling.  For  these  are  matters  totally  beneath 
a  female  who  is  acknowledged  by  universal  admission  to  be 
far  above  the  numerous  little  foibles  and  weaknesses  of  her 
sex. 

If  I  wanted  any  further  proof  of  the  strictly  philosophi- 
cal nature  of  the  conduct  of  these  young  gentlemen  in  their 
very  delicate  predicament,  I  should  at  once  find  it  in  the 
fact  (also  recorded  in  a  foregoing  part  of  this  narrative),  of 
their  quitting  the  pursuit,  when  their  general  attention  was 
fixed  upon  Oliver,  and  making  immediately  for  their  home 
by  the  shortest  possible  cut.  Although  I  do  not  mean  to 
assert  that  it  is  usually  the  practice  of  renowned  and  learned 
sages  to  shorten  the  road  to  any  great  conclusion  (their 
course,  indeed,  being  rather  to  lengthen  the  distance,  by 
various  circumlocutions  and  discursive  staggerings,  like  unto 
those  in  which  drunken  men  under  the  pressure  of  a  too 
mighty  flow  of  ideas,  are  prone  to  indulge)  ;  still,  I  do  mean 
to  say,  and  do  say  distinctly,  that  it  is  the  invariable  prac- 
tice of  many  mighty  philosophers,  in  carrying  out  their 
theories,  to  evince  great  wisdom  and  foresight  in  providing 
against  every  possible  contingency  which  can  be  supposed 
at  all  likely  to  affect  themselves.  Thus,  to  do  a  great  right, 
you  may  do  a  little  wrong  ;  and  you  may  take  any  means 
which  the  end  to  be  attained  will  justify  ;  the  amount  of 
the  right,  or  the  amount  of  the  wrong,  or,  indeed,  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  two,  being  left  entirely  to  the  phil- 
osopher concerned,  to  be  settled  and  determined  by  his 
clear,  comprehensive,  and  impartial  view  of  his  own  par- 
ticular case. 

It  was  not  until  the  two  boys  had  scoured,  with  great 
rapidity,  through  a  most  intricate  maze  of  narrow  streets 
and  courts,  that  they  ventured  to  halt  beneath  a  low  and 


90  OLIVER  TWIST. 

dark  archway.  Having  remained  silent  here,  just  long 
enough  to  recover  breath  to  speak,  Master  Bates  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  amusement  and  delight ;  and,  bursting  into 
an  uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter,  flung  himself  upon  a  door- 
step, and  rolled  thereon  in  a  transport  of  mirth. 
What's  the  matter  ? "  inquired  the  Dodger. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  roared  Charley  Bates. 

"  Hold  your  noise,"  remonstrated  the  Dodger,  looking 
cautiously  round.     "  Do  you  want  to  be  grabbed,  stupid  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Charley,  "  I  can't  help  it  !  To  see 
him  splitting  away  at  that  pace,  and  cutting  round  the  cor- 
ners, and  knocking  up  against  the  posts,  and  starting  on 
again  as  if  he  was  made  of  iron  as  well  as  them,  and  me 
with  the  wipe  in  my  pocket,  singing  out  arter  him — oh,  my 
eye  !  "  The  vivid  imagination  of  Master  Bates  presented 
the  scene  before  him  in  too  strong  colors.  As  he  arrived  at 
this  apostrophe,  he  again  rolled  upon  the  door-step,  and 
laughed  louder  than  before. 

"  What'll  Fagin  say  ?  "  inquired  the  Dodger,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  next  interval  of  breathlessness  on  the  part  of 
his  friend  to  propound  the  question. 

"What  ?"  repeated  Charley  Bates. 

"  Ah,  what  ?  "  said  the  Dodger. 

"Why,  what  should  he  say?"  inquired  Charley,  stopping 
rather  suddenly  in  his  merriment ;  for  the  Dodger's  manner 
was  impressive.     "  What  should  he  say  ? " 

Mr.  Dawkins  whistled  for  a  couple  of  minutes  ;  then, 
taking  off  his  hat,  scratched  his  head  and  nodded  thrice. 

"  What  do  you  man  ?  "  said  Charley. 

"Toor  rul  lol  loo,  gammon  and  spinnage,  the  frog  he 
wouldn't,  and  high  cockolorum,"  said  the  Dodger,  with  a 
slight  sneer  on  his  intellectual  countenance. 

This  was  explanatory,  but  not  satisfactory.  Master  Bates 
felt  it  so,  and  again  said,  "  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

The  Dodger  made  no  reply,  but  putting  his  hat  on  again, 
and  gathering  the  skirts  of  his  long-tailed  coat  under  his 
arm,  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  slapped  the  bridge  of 
his  nose  some  half-dozen  times  in  a  familiar  but  expressive 
manner,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  slunk  down  the  court. 
Master  Bates  followed  with  a  thoughtful  countenance. ♦ 

The  noise  of  footsteps  on  the  creaking  stairs,  a  few  min- 
utes after  the  occurrence  of  this  conversation,  roused  the 
merry  old  gentleman  as  he  sat  over  the  fire  with  a  saveloy 


OLIVER  TWIST.  9l 

and  a  small  loaf  in  his  left  hand  ;  a  pocket-knife  in  his 
right,  and  a  pewter  pot  on  the  trivet.  There  was  a  rascally 
smile  on  his  white  face  as  he  turned  round,  and  looking 
sharply  out  from  under  his  thick  red  eyebrows,  bent  his  ear 
toward  the  door,  and  listened. 

"  Why,  how's  this  ? "  muttered  the  Jew,  changing  counte- 
nance, "only  two  of  'em  ?  Where's  the  third  ?  They  can't 
have  got  into  trouble.     Hark  !  " 

The  footsteps  approached  nearer  ;  they  reached  the  land- 
ing. The  door  was  slowly  opened,  and  the  Dodger  and 
Charley  Bates  entered,  closing  it  behind  them. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SOME  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES  ARE  INTRODUCED  TO  THE 
INTELLIGENT  READER,  CONNECTED  WITH  WHOM  VARIOUS 
PLEASANT  MATTERS  ARE  RELATED  APPERTAINING  TO 
THIS  HISTORY. 

"  Where's  Oliver  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  rising  with  a  menacing 
look.     "Where's  the  boy  ?  " 

The  young  thieves  eyed  their  preceptor  as  if  they  were 
alarmed  at  his  violence,  and  looked  uneasily  at  each  other. 
But  they  made  no  reply. 

"  What's  become  of  the  boy  ? "  said  the  Jew,  seizing  the 
Dodger  tightly  by  the  collar,  and  threatening  him  with  hor- 
rid imprecations.     "  Speak  out,  or  I'll  throttle  you  !  " 

Mr.  Fagin  looked  so  very  much  in  earnest,  that  Charley 
Bates,  who  deemed  it  prudent  in  all  cases  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,  and  who  conceived  it  by  no  means  improbable  that  it 
might  be  his  turn  to  be  throttled  second,  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  and  raised  a  loud,  well-sustained,  and  continuous 
roar  —  something  between  a  mad  bull  and  a  speaking- 
trumpet. 

"  Will  you  speak,"  thundered  the  Jew  :  shaking  the  Dodg- 
er so  much  that  his  keeping  in  the  big  coat  at  all  seemed 
perfectly  miraculous. 

"  Why,  the  traps  have  got  him,  and  that's  all  about  it," 
said  the  Dodger,  sullenly.  "  Come,  let  go  o'  me,  will  you  !  " 
And,  swinging  himself,  at  one  jerk,  clean  out  of  the  big  coat, 
which  he  left  in  the  Jew's  hands,  the  Dodger  snatched  up 


92  OLIVER  TWIST. 

the  toasting-fork  and  made  a  pass  at  the  merry  old  gentle- 
man's waistcoat ;  which,  if  it  had  taken  effect,  would  have 
let  a  little  more  merriment  out  than  could  have  been  easily 
replaced. 

The  Jew  stepped  back  in  this  emergency,  with  more 
agility  than  could  have  been  anticipated  in  a  man  of  his  ap- 
parent decrepitude  ;  and,  seizing  up  the  pot,  prepared  to 
hurl  it  at  his  assailant's  head.  But  Charley  Bates,  at  this 
moment,  calling  his  attention  by  a  perfectly  terrific  howl,  he 
suddenly  altered  its  destination,  and  flung  it  full  at  that 
young  gentleman. 

,  "Why,  what  the  blazes  is  in  the  wind  now?"  growled  a 
deep  voice.  "  Who  pitched  that  'ere  at  me  ?  It's  well  it's 
the  beer  and  not  the  pot,  as  hit  me,  or  I'd  have  settled 
somebody.  I  might  have  know'd,  as  nobody  but  an  infern- 
al, rich,  plundering,  thundering  old  Jew  could  afford  to 
throw  away  any  drink  but  water — and  not  that,  unless  he 
done  the  River  Company  every  quarter.  Wot's  it  all  about, 
Fagin  ?  D — me,  if  my  neck-handkercher  ain't  lined  with 
beer  !  Come  in,  you  sneaking  warmint  !  wot  are  you  stop- 
ping outside  for,  as  if  you  was  ashamed  of  your  master  ! 
Come  in  !  " 

The  man  who  growled  out  these  words  was  a  stoutly-built 
fellow  of  about  five-and-thirty,  in  a  black  velveteen  coat, 
very  soiled  drab  breeches,  laced-up  half  boots,  and  gray  cot- 
ton stockings,  which  inclosed  a  bulky  pair  of  legs,  with 
large  swelling  calves — the  kind  of  legs,  which  in  such  cos- 
tume, always  look  in  an  unfinished  and  incomplete  state 
without  a  set  of  fetters  to  garnish  them.  He  had  a  brown 
hat  on  his  head,  and  a  dirty  belcher  handkerchief  round  his 
neck,  with  the  long  frayed  ends  of  which  he  smeared  the 
beer  from  his  face  as  he  spoke.  He  disclosed,  when  he  had 
done  so,  a  broad  heavy  countenance  with  a  beard  of  three 
days'  growth,  and  two  scowling  eyes  ;  one  of  which  dis- 
played various  party-colored  symptoms  of  having  been  re- 
cently damaged  by  a  blow. 

"  Come  in,  d'ye  hear  ? "  growled  this  engaging  ruffian. 

A  white  shaggy  dog,  with  his  face  scratched  and  torn  in 
twenty  different  places,  skulked  into  the  room. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  in  afore  ? "  said  the  man. 
"  You're  getting  too  proud  to  own  me  afore  company,  are 
you  ?     Lie  down  !  " 

This  command  was  accompanied  with  a  kick,  which  sen* 


OLIVER  TWIST.  93 

the  animal  to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  He  appeared  well 
used  to  it,  however  ;  for  he  coiled  himself  up  in  a  corner 
very  quietly,  without  uttering  a  sound,  and  winking  his  very 
ill-looking  eyes  twenty  times  in  a  minute,  appeared  to  occu- 
py himself  in  taking  a  survey  of  the  apartment. 

*  What  are  you  up  to  ?  Ill-treating  the  boys,  you  covet- 
ous, avaricious,  in-sa-ti-a-ble  old  fence  ?  "  said  the  man, 
seating  himself  deliberately.  "  I  wonder  they  don't  murder 
you  !  /  would  if  I  was  them.  If  I'd  been  your  'prentice, 
I'd  have  done  it  long  ago,  and — no,  I  couldn't  have  sold 
you  afterward,  for  you're  fit  for  nothing  but  keeping  as  a 
curiosity  of  ugliness  in  a  glass  bottle,  and  I  suppose  they 
don't  blow  glass  bottles  large  enough." 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  Mr.  Sikes,"  said  the  Jew,  trembling  ; 
"  don't  speak  so  loud." 

"None  of  your  mistering,"  replied  the  ruffian;  "you 
always  mean  mischief  when  you  come  that.  You  know 
my  name :  out  with  it  !  I  sha'n't  disgrace  it  when  the  time 
comes." 

"Well,  well,  then — Bill  Sikes,"  said  the  Jew,  with  abject 
humility.     "You  seem  out  of  humor,  Bill." 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  replied  Sikes  ;  "  I  should  think  you  was 
rather  out  of  sorts  too,  unless  you  mean  as  little  harm  when 
you  throw  pewter  pots  about,  as  you  do  when  you  blab 
and — " 

"  Are  you  mad  ? "  said  the  Jew,  catching  the  man  by  the 
sleeve,  and  pointing  toward  the  boys. 

Mr.  Sikes  contented  himself  by  tying  an  imaginary  knot 
under  his  left  ear,  and  jerking  his  head  over  on  the  right 
shoulder ;  a  piece  of  dumb  show  which  the  Jew  appeared  to 
understand  perfectly.  He  then,  in  cant  terms,  with  which 
his  whole  conversation  was  plentifully  besprinkled,  but  which 
would  be  quite  unintelligible  if  they  were  recorded  here, 
demanded  a  glass  of  liquor. 

"  And  mind  you  don't  poison  it,"  said  Mr.  Sikes,  laying 
his  hat  upon  the  table. 

This  was  said  in  jest  ;  but  if  the  speaker  could  have  seen 
the  evil  leer  with  which  the  Jew  bit  his  pale  lip  as  he  turned 
round  to  the  cupboard,  he  might  have  thought  the  caution 
not  wholly  unnecessary,  or  the  wish  (at  all  events)  to  im- 
prove upon  the  distiller's  ingenuity  not  very  far  from  the  old 
gentleman's  merry  heart. 

After  swallowing  two  or  three  glasses  of  spirits,  Mr.  Sikes 


94  OLIVER  TWIST. 

condescended  to  take  some  notice  of  the  young  gentlemen  ; 
which  gracious  act  led  to  a  conversation,  in  which  the  cause 
and  manner  of  Oliver's  capture  were  circumstantially  de- 
tailed, with  such  alterations  and  improvements  on  the  truth 
as  to  the  Dodger  appeared  most  advisable  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  the  Jew,  "that  he  may  say  something 
which  will  get  us  into  trouble." 

"  That's  very  likely,"  returned  Sikes,  with  a  malicious 
grin.     "You're  blowed  upon,  Fagin." 

"  And  I'm  afraid,  you  see,"  added  the  Jew,  speaking  as 
if  he  had  not  noticed  the  interruption  ;  and  regarding  the 
other  closely  as  he  did  so---"  I'm  afraid  that  if  the  game  was 
up  with  us,  it  might  be  up  with  a  good  many  more,  and  that 
it  would  come  out  rather  worse  for  you  than  it  would  for 
me,  my  dear." 

The  man  started,  and  turned  round  upon  the  Jew.  But 
the  old  gentleman's  shoulders  were  shrugged  up  to  his  ears; 
and  his  eyes  were  vacantly  staring  on  the  opposite  wall. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Every  member  of  the  respect- 
able coterie  appeared  plunged  in  his  own  reflections  ;  not 
excepting  the  dog,  who  by  a  certain  malicious  licking  of  his 
lips  seemed  to  be  meditating  an  attack  upon  the  legs  of  the 
first  gentleman  or  lady  he  might  encounter  in  the  streets 
when  he  went  out. 

"  Somebody  must  find  out  wot's  been  done  at  the  office," 
said  Mr.  Sikes,  in  a  much  lower  tone  than  he  had  taken 
since  he  came  in. 

The  Jew  nodded  assent. 

"  If  he  hasn't  peached,  and  is  committed,  there's  no  fear 
till  he  comes  out  again,"  said  Mr.  Sikes,  "  and  then  he  must 
be  taken  care  on.     You  must  get  hold  of  him  somehow." 

Again  the  Jew  nodded. 

The  prudence  of  this  line  of  action,  indeed,  was  obvious  ; 
but,  unfortunately,  there  was  one  very  strong  objection  to 
its  being  adopted.  This  was,  that  the  Dodger,  and  Charley 
Bates,  and  Fagin,  and  Mr.  William  Sikes,  happened  one  and 
all,  to  entertain  a  violent  and  deep-rooted  antipathy  to 
going  near  a  police-office  on  any  ground  or  pretext  what- 
ever. 

How  long  they  might  have  sat  and  looked  at  each  other, 
in  a  state  of  uncertainty  not  the  most  pleasant  of  its  kind, 
it  is  difficult  to  guess.     It  is  not  necessary  to  make  any 


OLIVER  TWIST.  95 

guesses  on  the  subject,  however  ;  for  the  sudden  entrance 
of  the  two  young  ladies  whom  Oliver  had  seen  on  a  former 
occasion,  caused  the  conversation  to  flow  afresh. 

"  The  very  thing  !  "  said  the  Jew.  "  Bet  will  go  ;  won't 
you,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Wheres  ?  "  inquired  the  young  lady. 

"  Only  just  up  to  the  office,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  coax' 
ingly. 

It  is  due  to  the  young  lady  to  say  that  she  did  not  posi* 
tively  affirm  that  she  would  not,  but  that  she  merely  ex- 
pressed an  emphatic  and  earnest  desire  to  be  "  blessed  "  if 
she  would  ;  a  polite  and  delicate  evasion  of  the  request, 
which  shows  the  young  lady  to  have  been  possessed  of  that 
natural  good-breeding  which  can  not  bear  to  inflict  upon  a 
fellow-creature  the  pain  of  a  direct  and  pointed  refusal. 

The  Jew's  countenance  fell.  He  turned  from  this  young 
lady,  who  was  gayly,  not  to  say  gorgeously  attired,  in  a  red 
gown,  green  boots,  and  yellow  curl-papers,  to  the  other  fe- 
male. 

"  Nancy,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew  in  a  soothing  manner, 
"what  do  you  say?" 

"  That  it  won't  do  ;  so  it's  no  use  a-trying  it  on,  Fagin," 
replied  Nancy. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  Mr.  Sikes,  looking  up 
in  a  surly  manner. 

"  What  I  say,  Bill,"  replied  the  lady,  collectedly. 

"  Why,  you're  just  the  very  person  for  it,"  reasoned  Mr. 
Sikes  :  "  nobody  about  here  knows  any  thing  of  you." 

"And  I  don't  want  'em  to,  neither,"  replied  Nancy,  in  the 
same  composed  manner,  "  it's  rather  more  no  than  yes  with 
me,  Bill." 

"  She'll  go,  Fagin,"  said  Sikes. 

"  No  she  won't,  Fagin,"  said  Nancy. 

"Yes  she  will,  Fagin,"  said  Sikes. 

And  Mr.  Sikes  was  right.  By  dint  of  alternate  threats, 
promises,  and  bribes,  the  lady  in  question  was  ultimately 
prevailed  upon  to  undertake  the  commission.  She  was  not 
indeed,  withheld  by  the  same  considerations  as  her  agree- 
able friend  ;  for,  having  recently  removed  into  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Field  Lane  from  the  remote  but  genteel  suburb 
of  Ratcliffe,  she  was  not  under  the  same  apprehension  of 
being  recognized  by  any  of  her  numerous  acquaintance. 

Accordingly,  with  a  clean  white  apron  tied  over  her  gown, 


96  OLIVER  TWIST. 

and  her  curl-papers  tucked  up  under  a  straw  bonnet — both 
articles  of  dress  being  provided  from  the  Jew's  inexhaustible 
stock — Miss  Nancy  prepared  to  issue  forth  on  her  errand. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  producing  a  lit- 
tle covered  basket.  "  Carry  that  in  one  hand.  It  looks 
more  respectable,  my  dear." 

"  Give  her  a  door-key  to  carry  in  her  t'other  one,  Fagin," 
said  Sikes  ;  "  it  looks  real  and  genivine  like." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  so  it  does,"  said  the  Jew,  hanging  a 
large  street-door  key  on  the  forefinger  of  the  young  lady's 
right-hand.  "  There  ;  very  good  !  Very  good,  indeed,  my 
dear  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  my  brother  !  My  poor,  dear,  sweet,  innocent  little 
brother  !  "  exclaimed  Nancy,  bursting  into  tears,  and  wring- 
ing the  little  basket  and  the  street-door  key  in  an  agony  of 
distress.  "What  has  become  of  him!  Where  have  they 
taken  him  to  !  Oh,  do  have  pity,  and  tell  me  what's  been 
done  with  the  dear  boy,  gentlemen  ;  do,  gentlemen,  if  you 
please,  gentlemen  !  " 

Having  uttered  these  words  in  a  most  lamentable  and 
heart-broken  tone — to  the  immeasurable  delight  of  her 
hearers — Miss  Nancy  paused,  winked  to  the  company, 
nodded  smilingly  round,  and  disappeared. 

"  Ah,  she's  a  clever  girl,  my  dears,"  said  the  Jew,  turning 
round  to  his  young  friends,  and  shaking  his  head  gravely,  as 
if- in  mute  admonition  to  them  to  follow  the  bright  example 
they  had  just  beheld. 

She's  a  honor  to  her  sex,"  said  Mr.  Sikes,  filling  his 
glass,  and  smiting  the  table  with  his  enormous  fist.  "  Here's 
her  health,  and  wishing  they  was  all  like  her  !  " 

While  these  and  many  other  encomiums  were  being 
passed  on  the  accomplished  Nancy5  that  young  lady  made 
the  best  of  her  way  to  the  police-office  ;  whither,  notwith- 
standing a  little  natural  timidity  consequent  upon  walking 
through  the  streets  alone  and  unprotected,  she  arrived  in 
perfect  safety  shortly  afterward. 

Entering  by  the  back  way,  she  tapped  softly  with  the  key 
at  one  of  the  cell-doors,  and  listened.  There  was  no  sound 
within  ;  so  she  coughed  and  listened  again.  Still  there  was 
no  reply  :  so  she  spoke. 

"  Nolly,  dear  ? "  murmured  Nancy,  in  a  gentle  voice, 
"  Nolly  ?  M 

There  was  nobody  inside  but  a  miserable  shoeless  crimi- 


*  OLIVER  TWIST.  97 

nal,  who  had  been  taken  up  for  playing  the  flute,  and  who, 
the  offense  against  society  having  been  clearly  proved,  had 
been  very  properly  committed  by  Mr.  Fang  to  the  House  of 
Correction  for  one  month  ;  with  the  appropriate  and  amus- 
ing remark  that  since  he  had  so  much  breath  to  spare,  it 
would  be  more  wholesomely  expended  on  the  tread-mill  than 
in  a  musical  instrument.  He  made  no  answer  ;  being  occu- 
pied in  mentally  bewailing  the  loss  of  the  flute,  which  had 
been  confiscated  for  the  use  of  the  county ;  so  Nancy 
passed  on  to  the  next  cell,  and  knocked  there. 

"  Well  !  "  cried  a  faint  and  feeble  voice. 

"Is  there  a  little  boy  here?"  inquired  Nancy,  with  a 
preliminary  sob. 

"  No,"  replied  the  voice  ;  "  God  forbid  !  " 

This  was  a  vagrant  of  sixty-five,  who  was  going  to  prison 
for  not  playing  the  flute  ;  or,  in  other  words,  for  begging  in 
the  streets,  and  doing  nothing  for  his  livelihood.  In  the 
next  cell  was  another  man,  who  was  going  to  the  same  pris- 
on for  hawking  tin  saucepans  without  a  license  ;  thereby 
doing  something  for  his  living,  in  defiance  of  the  Stamp- 
office. 

But,  as  neither  of  these  criminals  answered  to  the  name 
of  Oliver,  or  knew  any  thing  about  him,  Nancy  made 
straight  up  to  the  bluff  officer  in  the  striped  waistcoat ;  and 
with  the  most  piteous  wailings  and  lamentations,  rendered 
more  piteous  by  a  prompt  and  efficient  use  of  the  street- 
door  key  and  the  little  basket,  demanded  her  own  dear 
brother. 

"/haven't  got  him,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  screamed  Nancy,  in  a  distracted  manner. 

"  Why,  the  gentleman's  got  him,"  replied  the  officer. 

"  What  gentleman  ?  Oh,  gracious  heavens  !  What  gentle- 
man ?  "  exclaimed  Nancy* 

In  reply  to  this  incoherent  questioning,  the  old  man  in- 
formed the  deeply-affected  sister  that  Oliver  had  been  taken 
ill  in  the  office,  and  discharged  in  consequence  of  a  witness 
having  proved  the  robbery  to  have  been  committed  by 
another  boy  not  in-  custody  ;  and  that  the  prosecutor  had 
carried  him  away,  in  an  insensible  condition,  to  his  own 
residence  ;  of  and  concerning  which,  all  the  informant  knew 
was,  that  it  was  somewhere  at  Pentonville,  he  having  heard 
that  word  mentioned  in  the  directions  to  the  coachman. 

In  a  dreadful  state  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  the  agonized 


98  OLIVER  TWIST.  * 

young  woman  staggered  to  the  gate,  and  then  exchanging 
her  faltering  walk  for  a  swift  run,  returned,  by  the  most 
devious  and  complicated  route  she  could  think  of,  to  the 
domicile  of  the  Jew. 

Mr.  Bill  Sikes  no  sooner  heard  the  account  of  the  expedi- 
tion delivered,  than  he  very  hastily  called  upon  the  white 
dog,  and,  putting  on  his  hat,  expeditiously  departed  ;  with- 
out devoting  any  time  to  the  formality  of  wishing  the  com- 
pany good-morning. 

*-  We  must  know  where  he  is,  my  dears  ;  he  must  be  found," 
said  the  Jew,  greatly  excited.  "  Charley,  do  nothing  but 
skulk  about  till  you  bring  home  some  news  of  him  !  Nancy, 
my  dear,  I  must  have  him  found.  I  trust  to  you,  my  dear — 
to  you  and  the  Artful,  for  every  thing  !  Stay,  stay,"  added 
the  Jew,  unlocking  a  drawer  with  a  shaking  hand  ;  "  there's 
money,  my  dears.  I  shall  shut  up  this  shop  to-night. 
You'll  know  where  to  find  me  !  Don't  stop  here  a  minute. 
Not  an  instant,  my  dears  !  " 

With  these  words,  he  pushed  them  from  the  room  ;  and 
carefully  double-locking  and  barring  the  door  behind  them, 
drew  from  its  place  of  concealment  the  box  which  he  had 
unintentionally  disclosed  to  Oliver.  Then  he  hastily  pro- 
ceeded to  dispose  the  watches  and  jewelry  beneath  his 
clothing. 

A  rap  at  the  door  startled  him  in  this  occupation.  "  Who's 
there  ?  "  he  cried  in  a  shrill  tone. 

"  Me  !  "  replied  the  voice  of  the  Dodger,  through  the  key- 
hole. 

"  What  now  ?  "  cried  the  Jew,  impatiently. 

"  Is  he  to  be  kidnapped  to  the  other  ken,  Nancy  says  ?  " 
inquired  the  Dodger. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Jew,  "  wherever  she  lays  hands  on  him. 
Find  him,  find  him  out,  that's  all !  I  shall  know  what  to  do 
next  ;  never  fear." 

The  boy  murmured  a  reply  of  intelligence,  and  hurried 
down  stairs  after  his  companions. 

"  He  has  not  peached,  so  far,"  said  the  Jew,  as  he  pur- 
sued his  occupation.  "  If  he  means  to  blab  us  among  his 
new  friends,  we  may  stop  his  mouth  yet." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  99 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COMPRISING  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  OLIVER'S  STAY  AT 
MR.  BROWNLOW'S,  WITH  THE  REMARKABLE  PREDICTION 
WHICH  ONE  MR.  GRIMWIG  UTTERED  CONCERNING  HIM, 
.WHEN  HE  WENT  OUT  ON  AN  ERRAND. 

Oliver  soon  recovering  from  the  fainting-fit  into  which 
Mr.  Brownlow's  abrupt  exclamation  had  thrown  him,  the 
subject  of  the  picture  was  carefully  avoided,  both  by  the 
old  gentleman  and  Mrs.  Bedwin,  in  the  conversation  that 
ensued  ;  which  indeed  bore  no  reference  to  Oliver's  history 
or  prospects,  but  was  con.fined  to  such  topics  as  might  amuse 
without  exciting  him.  He  was  still  too  weak  to  get  up  to 
breakfast  ;  but,  when  he  came  down  into  the  house-keeper's 
room  next  day,  his  first  act  was  to  cast  an  eager  glance  at 
the  wall,  in  the  hope  of  again  looking  on  the  face  of  the 
beautiful  lady.  His  expectations  were  disappointed,  how- 
ever, for  the  picture  had  been  removed. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  housekeeper,  watching  the  direction  of 
Oliver's  eyes.     "  It  is  gone,  you  see." 

"  I  see  it  is,  ma'am,"  replied  Oliver.  "  Why  have  they 
taken  it  away  ?  " 

"It  has  been  taken  down,  child,  because  Mr.  Brownlow 
said  that  as  it  seemed  to  worry  you,  perhaps  it  might  pre- 
vent your  getting  well,  you  know,"  rejoined  the  old  lady. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  It  didn't  worry  me,  ma'am,"  said 
Oliver.  "  I  liked  to  see  it.  I  quite  loved  it." 
'  "  Well,  well !  "  said  the  old  lady,  good-humoredly  ;  "  you 
get  well  as  fast  as  ever  you  can,  dear,  and  it  shall  be  hung 
up  again.  There  !  I  promise  you  that  !  Now,  let  us  talk 
about  something  else." 

This  was  all  the  information  Oliver  could  obtain  about 
the  picture  at  that  time.  As  the  old  lady  had  been  so  kind 
to  him  in  his  illness,  he  endeavored  to  think  no  more  of  the 
subject  just  then  ;  so  he  listened  attentively  to  a  great  many 
stories  she  told  him,  about  an  amiable  and  handsome 
daughter  of  hers,  who  was  married  to  an  amiable  and  hand- 
some man,  and  lived  in  the  country  ;  and  about  a  son,  who 
was  clerk  to  a  merchant  in  the  West  Indies  ;  and  who  was, 
also,  such  a  good  young  man,  and  wrote  such  dutiful  letters 
home  four  times  a  year,  that  it  brought  the  tears  into  her 


ioo  OLIVER  TWIST. 

eyes  to  talk  about  them.  When  the  old  lady  had  expatiated 
a  long  time,  on  the  excellences  of  her  children,  and  the 
merits  of  her  kind  good  husband  besides,  who  had  been 
dead  and  gone,  poor  dear  soul  !  just  six-and-twenty  years. 
it  was  time  to  have  tea.  After  tea  she  began  to  teach  Oliver 
cribbage,  which  he  learned  as  quickly  as  she  could  teach, 
and  at  which  game  they  played,  with  great  interest  and 
gravity,  until  it  was  time  for  the  invalid  to  have  some  warm 
wine  and  water,  with  a  slice  of  dry  toast,  and  then  to  go 
cozily  to  bed. 

They  were  happy  days,  those  of  Oliver's  recovery.  Every 
thing  was  so  quiet,  and  neat,  and  orderly  ;  every  body  was 
kind  and  gentle  ;  that  after  the  noise  and  turbulence  in  the 
midst  of  which  he  had  always  lived,  it  seemed  like  heaven 
itself.  He  was  no  sooner  strong  enough  to  put  his  clothes 
on  properly,  than  Mr.  Brownlow  caused  a  complete  new 
suit,  and  a  new  cap,  and  a  new  pair  of  shoes,  to  be  provided 
for  him.  As  Oliver  was  told  that  he  might  do  what  he  liked 
with  the  old  clothes,  he  gave  them  to  a  servant  who  had 
been  very  kind  to  him,  and  asked  her  to  sell  them  to  a  Jew, 
and  keep  the  money  for  herself.  This  she  very  readily  did  ; 
and,  as  Oliver  looked  out  of  the  parlor  window,  and  saw  the 
Jew  roll  them  up  in  his  bag  and  walk  away,  he  felt  quite  de- 
lighted to  think  that  they  were  safely  gone,  and  that  there 
was  now  no  possible  danger  of  his  ever  being  able  to  wear 
them  again.  They  were  sad  rags,  to  tell  the  truth  ;  and 
Oliver  had  never  had  a  new  suit  before. 

One  evening,  about  a  week  after  the  affair  of  the  picture, 
as  he  was  sitting  talking  to  Mrs.  Bedwin,  there  came  a  mes- 
sage down  from  Mr.  Brownlow,  that  if  Oliver  Twist  felt 
pretty  well,  he  should  like  to  see  him  in  his  study  and  talk 
to  him  a  little  while. 

"  Bless  us,  and  save  us  !  Wash  your  hands,  and  let  me 
part  your  hair  nicely  for  you,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Bedwin. 
"  Dear  heart  alive  !  If  we  had  known  he  would  have  asked 
for  you,  we  could  have  put  you  a  clean  collar  on,  and  made 
you  as  smart  as  sixpence  !  " 

Oliver  did  as  the  old  lady  bade  him  ;  and,  although  she 
lamented  grievously,  meanwhile,  that  there  was  not  even 
time  to  crimp  the  little  frill  that  bordered  his  shirt-collar  ; 
he  looked  so  delicate  and  handsome,  despite  that  important 
personal  advantage,  that  she  went  so  far  as  to  say,  looking 
at  him  with  great  complacency  from  head  to  foot,  that  she 


PLIVER  TWIST.  ioi 

really  didn't  think  it  would  have  been,  possible,  or  tne 
longest  notice,  to  have  made  much  difference  in  him  for  the 
better. 

Thus  encouraged,  Oliver  tapped  at  the  study  door.  On 
Mr.  Brownlow  calling  to  him  to  come  in,  he  found  himself 
in  a  little  back-room  quite  full  of  books,  with  a  window, 
looking  into  some  pleasant  little  gardens.  There  was  a 
table  drawn  up  before  the  window,  at  which  Mr.  Brownlow 
was  seated  reading.  When  he  saw  Oliver,  he  pushed  the 
book  away  from  him,  and  told  him  to  come  near  the  table, 
and  sit  down.  Oliver  complied  ;  marveling  where  the  peo- 
ple could  be  found  to  read  such  a  great  number  of  books  as 
seemed  to  be  written  to  make  the  world  wiser.  Which  is 
still  a  marvel  to  more  experienced  people  than  Oliver  Twist, 
every  day  of  their  lives. 

"  There  are  a  good  many  books,  are  there  not,  my  boy  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Brownlow,  observing  the  curiosity  with  which 
Oliver  surveyed  the  shelves  that  reached  from  the  floor  to 
the  ceiling. 

"A  great  number,  sir,"  replied  Oliver.  "I  never  saw  so 
many." 

"You  shall  read  them,  if  you  behave  well,"  said  the  old 
gentleman  kindly  ;  "  and  you  will  like  that  better  than 
looking  at  the  outsides — that  is,  in  some  cases  ;  because 
there  are  books  of  which  the  backs  and  covers  are  by  far 
the  best  parts." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  those  heavy  ones,  sir,"  said  Oliver, 
pointing  to  some  large  quartos,  with  a  good  deal  of  gilding 
about  the  binding. 

"  Not  always  those,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  patting 
Oliver  on  the  head,  and  smiling  as  he  did  so  ;  "  there  are 
other  equally  heavy  ones,  though  of  a  much  smaller  size. 
How  should  you  like  to  grow  up  a  clever  man,  and  write 
books,  eh  ? " 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  read  them,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"What!  wouldn't  you  like  to  be  a  book-  writer  ?"  said 
the  old  gentleman. 

Oliver  considered  a  little  while  ;  and  at  last  said,  he 
should  think  it  would  be  a  much  better  thing  to  be  a  book- 
seller ;  upon  which  the  old  gentleman  laughed  heartily,  and 
declared  he  had  said  a  very  good  thing.  Which  Oliver  felt 
glad  to  have  done,  though  he  by  no  means  knew  what  it 
was. 


io2.  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"Well,  well,"  said  die  old  gentleman,  composing  his 
features.  "  Don't  be  afraid  !  We  won't  make  an  author  of 
you,  while  there's  an  honest  trade  to  be  learned,  or  brick- 
making  to  turn  to." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Oliver.  At  the  earnest  manner 
of  his  reply,  the  old  gentleman  laughed  again  ;  and  said 
something  about  a  curious  instinct,  which  Oliver,  not  under- 
standing, paid  no  very  great  attention  to. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  speaking  if  possible  in  a 
kinder,  but  at  the  same  time  in  a  much  more  serious  man- 
ner, than  Oliver  had  ever  known  him  assume  yet  ;  "  I  want 
you  to  pay  great  attention,  my  boy,  to  what  I  am  going  to 
say.  I  shall  talk  to  you  without  any  reserve  ;  because  I  am 
sure  you  are  as  well  able  to  understand  me  as  many  older 
persons  would  be." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  you  are  going  to  send  me  away,  sir, 
pray  !  "  exclaimed  Oliver,  alarmed  at  the  serious  tone  of  the 
old  gentleman's  commencement.  "  Don't  turn  me  out-of- 
doors  to  wander  in  the  streets  again.  Let  me  stay  here,  and 
be  a  servant.  Don't  send  me  back  to  the  wretched  place  I 
came  from.     Have  mercy  upon  a  poor  boy,  sir  !  " 

11  My  dear  child,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  moved  by  the 
warmth  of  Oliver's  sudden  appeal ;  "you  need  not  be  afraid 
of  my  deserting  you,  unless  you  give  me  cause." 

"  I  never,  never  will,  sir,"  interposed  Oliver. 

"I  hope  not,"  rejoined  the  old  gentleman.  "I  do  not 
think  you  ever  will.  I  have  been  deceived  before,  in  the 
objects  whom  I  have  endeavored  to  benefit  ;  but  I  feel 
strongly  disposed  to  trust  you,  nevertheless  ;  and  I  am  more 
interested  in  your  behalf  than  I  can  well  account  for,  even 
to  myself.  The  persons  on  whom  I  have  bestowed  my 
dearest  love  lie  deep  in  their  graves  ;  but,  although  the 
happiness  and  delight  of  my  life  lie  buried  there  too,  I  have 
not  made  a  coffin  of  my  heart,  and'  sealed  it  up  forever  on 
my  best  affections.  Deep  affliction  has  but  strengthened 
and  refined  them." 

As  the  old  gentleman  said  this  in  a  low  voice — more  to 
himself  than  to  his  companion — and  as  he  remained  silent 
for  a  short  time  afterward,  Oliver  sat  quite  still. 

"  Well,  well  ! "  said  the  old  gentleman  at  length,  in  a 
more  cheerful  tone,  "  I  only  say  this  because  you  have  a 
young  heart  ;  and  knowing  that  I  have  suffered  great  pain 
and  sorrow,  you  will  be  more  careful,  perhaps,  not  to  wound 


OLIVER  TWIST.  103 

me  again.  You  say  you  are  an  orphan,  without  a  friend  in 
the  world  ;  all  the  inquiries  I  have  been  able  to  make  con- 
firm this  statement.  Let  me  hear  your  story  ;  where  you 
come  from  ;  who  brought  you  up  ;  and  how  you  got  into 
the  company  in  which  I  found  you.  Speak  the  truth,  and 
you  shall  not  be  friendless  while  I  live." 

Oliver's  sobs  checked  his  utterance  for  some  minutes  ; 
when  he  was  on  the  point  of  beginning  to  relate  how  he  had 
been  brought  up  at  the  farm,  and  carried  to  the  work-house 
by  Mr.  Bumble,  a  peculiarly  impatient  little  double-knock 
was  heard  at  the  street-door  ;  and  the  servant,  running  up 
stairs,  announced  Mr.  Grimwig. 

"  Is  he  coming  up  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  servant.  "  He  asked  if  there  were 
any  muffins  in  the  house  ;  and  when  I  told  him  yes,  he  said 
he  had  come  to  tea." 

Mr.  Brownlow  smiled ;  and,  turning  to  Oliver,  said  that 
Mr.  Grimwig  was  an  old  friend  of  his,  and  he  must  not  mind 
his  being  a  little  rough  in  his  manners  ;  for  he  was  a  worthy 
creature  at  bottom,  as  he  had  reason  to  know. 

"  Shall  I  go  down  stairs,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Oliver. 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  "I  would  rather  you  re- 
mained here." 

At  this  moment  there  walked  into  the  room,  supporting 
himself  by  a  thick  stick,  a  stout  old  gentleman,  rather  lame 
in  one  leg,  who  was  dressed  in  a  blue  coat,  striped  waist- 
coat, nankeen  breeches  and  gaiters,  and  a  broad-brimmed 
white  hat,  with  the  sides  turned  up  with  green.  A  very 
small  plaited  shirt  frill  stuck  out  from  his  waistcoat ;  and  a 
very  long  steel  watch-chain,  with  nothing  but  a  key  at  the 
end,  dangled  loosely  below  it.  The  ends  of  his  white  neck- 
erchief were  twisted  into  a  ball  about  the  size  of  an  orange; 
the  variety  of  shapes  into  which  his  countenance  was  twisted 
defy  description.  He  had  a  manner  of  screwing  his  head 
on  one  side  when  he  spoke,  and  of  looking  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes  at  the  same  time,  which  irresistibly  reminded  the 
beholder  of  a  parrot.  In  this  attitude  he  fixed  himself,  the 
moment  he  made  his  appearance  ;  and,  holding  out  a  small 
piece  of  orange-peel  at  arm's  length,  exclaimed,  in  a  growl- 
ing, discontented  voice.  x 

"  Look  here  !  do  you  see  this  !  Isn't  it  a  most  wonderful 
and  extraordinary  thing  that  I  can't  call  at  a  man's  house 
but  I  find  a  piece  of  this  poor  surgeon 's-friend  on  the  stair- 


io4  OLIVER     TWIST. 

case  ?  I've  been  lamed  with  orange-peel  once,  and  I  know 
orange-peel  will  be  my  death  at  last.  It  will,  sir  :  orange- 
peel  will  be  my  death,  or  I'll  be  content  to  eat  my  own 
head,  sir  ! " 

This  was  the  handsome  offer  with  which  Mr.  Grimwig 
backed  and  confirmed  nearly  every  assertion  he  made  ;  and 
it  was  the  more  singular  in  his  case,  because,  even  admitting 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  the  possibility  of  scientific  im- 
provements being  ever  brought  to  that  pass  which  will  enable 
a  gentleman  to  eat  his  own  head  in  the  event  of  his  being 
so  disposed,  Mr.  Grimwig's  head  was  such  a  particularly 
large  one,  that  the  most  sanguine  man  alive  could  hardly 
entertain  a  hope  of  being  able  to  get  through  it  at  a  sitting—- 
to  put  entirely  out  of  the  question  a  very  thick  coating  of 
powder. 

"  I'll  eat  my  head,  sir,"  repeated  Mr.  Grimwig,  striking 
his  stick  upon  the  ground.  "  Halloo  !  what's  that  ?  "  look- 
ing at  Oliver,  and  retreating  a  pace  or  two. 

This  is  young  Oliver  Twist,  whom   we  were   speaking 
about,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow. 

Oliver  bowed. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that's  the  boy  who  had  the  fever, 
I  hope  ? "  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  recoiling  a  little  more.  "  Wait 
a  minute  ?  Don't  speak  !  Stop — "  continued  Mr.  Grimwig, 
abruptly,  losing  all  dread  of  the  fever  in  his  triumph 
at  the  discovery  ;  "  that's  the  boy  who  had  the  orange  !  If 
that's  not  the  boy,  sir,  who  had  the  orange,  and  threw 
this  bit  of  peel  upon  the  staircase,  I'll  eat  my  head, 
and  his  too."  * 

"  No,  no,  he  has  not  had  one,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  laugh- 
ing. "Come  !  Put  down  your  hat  ;  and  speak  to  my 
young  friend." 

"I  feel  strongly  on  this  subject,  sir,"  said  the  irritable  old 
gentleman,  drawing  off  his  gloves.  "  There's  always  more  or 
less  orange-peel  on  the  pavement  in  our  street ;  and  I  know 
it's  put  there  by  the  surgeon's  boy  at  the  corner.  A  young 
woman  stumbled  over  a  bit  last  night,  and  fell  against  my 
garden-railings  ;  directly  she  got  up  I  saw  her  look  toward 
his  infernal  red  lamp  with  the  pantomime-light.  -  Don't  go 
to  him,'  I  called  out  of  the  window,  '  he's  an  assassin  !  A 
man-trap  ! '  So  he  is.  If  he  is  not — "  Here  the  irascible 
old  gentleman  gave  a  great  knock  on  the  ground  with  his 
stick  ;  which  was  always  understood  by  his  friends  to  imply 


OLIVER  TWIST.  105 

the  customary  offer,  whenever  it  was  not  expressed  in  words. 
Then,  still  keeping  his  stick  in  his  hand,  he  sat  down  ;  and, 
opening  a  double  eye-glass,  which  he  wore  attached  to  a 
broad  black  ribbon,  took  a  view  of  Oliver  ;  who  seeing  that 
he  was  the  object  of  inspection,  colored  and  bowed  again. 

"  That's  the  boy,  is  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  at  length. 

"  That  is  the  boy,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"  How  are  you,  boy,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig. 

"  A  great  deal  better,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

Mr.  Brownlow,  seeming  to  apprehend  that  his  singular 
friend  was  about  to  say  something  disagreeable,  asked 
Oliver  to  step  down  stairs  and  tell  Mrs.  Bedwin  they  were 
ready  for  tea  ;  which,  as  he  did  not  half  like  the  visitor's 
manner,  he  was  very  happy  to  do. 

"  He  is  a  nice  looking  boy,  is  he  not  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Brownlow. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Grimwig,  pettishly. 

"  Don't  know  ?  " 

"  No.  I  don't  know.  I  never  see  any  difference  in  boys. 
I  only  know  two  sorts  of  boys.  Mealy  boys,  and  beef-faced 
boys." 

"  And  which  is  Oliver  ?  " 

"  Mealy.  I  know  a  friend  who  has  a  beef-faced  boy — a 
fine  boy,  they  call  him  ;  with  a  round  head,  and  red  cheeks, 
and  glaring  eyes  ;  a  horrid  boy  ;  with  a  body  and  limbs  that 
appear  to  be  swelling  out  of  the  seams  of  his  blue  clothes  *, 
with  the  voice  of  a  pilot,  and  the  appetite  of  a  wolf.  I  know 
him  !  The  wretch  !  " 

"  Come,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  these  are  not  the  charac- 
teristics of  young  Oliver  Twist ;  so  he  needn't  excite  your 
wrath." 

"  They  are  not,"  replied  Mr.  Grimwig.  "  He  may  have 
worse." 

Here  Mr.  Brownlow  coughed  impatiently  ;  which  ap- 
peared to  afford  Mr.  Grimwig  the  most  exquisite  delight. 

"  He  may  have  worse,  I  say,"  repeated  Mr.  Grimwig. 
"  Where  does  he  come  from  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  he  ? 
He  has  had  a  fever.  What  of  that  ?  Fevers  are  not  pe- 
culiar to  good  people  ;  are  they  ?  Bad  people  have  fevers 
sometimes  ;  haven't  they,  eh  ?  I  knew  a  man  who  was 
hung  in  Jamaica  for  murdering  his  master.  He  had  had  a 
fever  six  times  ;  he  wasn't  recommended  to  mercy  on  that 
account.  Pooh  !  nonsense  !  " 


io6  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Now,  the  fact  was  that,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  own 
heart,  Mr.  Grimwig  was  strongly  disposed  to  admit  that 
Oliver's  appearance  and  manner  were  unusually  prepossess- 
ing ;  but  he  had  a  strong  appetite  for  contradiction, 
sharpened  on  this  occasion  by  the  finding  of  the  orange- 
peel  ;  and,  inwardly  determining  that  no  man  should  dictate 
to  him  whether  a  boy  was  well-looking  or  not,  he  had  re- 
solved, from  the  first,  to  oppose  his  friend.  When  Mr. 
Brownlow  admitted  that  on  no  one  point  of  inquiry  could 
he  yet  return  a  satisfactory  answer  ;  and  that  he  had  post- 
poned any  investigation  into  Oliver's  previous  history  until 
he  thought  the  boy  was  strong  enough  to  bear  it  ;  Mr. 
Grimwig  chuckled  maliciously.  And  he  demanded,  with  a 
sneer,  whether  the  housekeeper  was  in  the  habit  of  count- 
ingNthe  plate  at  night  ;  because,  if  she  didn't  find  a  table- 
spoon or  two  missing  some  sunshiny  morning,  why,  he  would 
be  content  to — and  so  forth. 

All  this,  Mr.  Brownlow,  although  himself  somewhat  of  an 
impetuous  gentleman,  knowing  his  friend's  peculiarities,  bore 
with  great  good-humor.  As  Mr.  Grimwig,  at  tea,  was 
graciously  pleased  to  express  his  entire  approval  of  the 
muffins,  matters  went  on  very  smoothly  ;  and  Oliver,  who 
made  one  of  the  party,  began  to  feel  more  at  his  ease  than 
he  had  yet  done  in  the  fierce  old  gentleman's  presence. 

"  And  when  are  you  going  to  hear  a  full,  true,  and  partic- 
ular account  of  the  life  and  adventures  of  Oliver  Twist  ?  " 
asked  Grimwig  of  Mr.  Brownlow,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
meal :  looking  sideways  at  Oliver,  as  he  resumed  the 
subject. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "I  would 
rather  he  was  alone  with  me  at  the  time.  Come  up  to  me 
to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver.  He  answered  with  some  hesi- 
tation, because  he  was  confused  by  Mr.  Grimwig's  looking 
so  hard  at  him. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  whispered  that  gentleman  to  Mr. 
Brownlow  ;  "  he  won't  come  up  to  you  to-morrow  morning. 
I  saw  him  hesitate.     He  is  deceiving  you,  my  good  friend." 

"  I'll  swear  he  is  not,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  warmly. 

"  If  he  is  not,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  "  I'll — "  and  down 
went  the  stick. 

"  I'll  answer  for  that  boy's  truth  with  my  life  !  "  said  Mr, 
Brownlow,  knocking  the  table. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  107 

"  And  I  for  his  falsehood  with  my  head  !  "  rejoined  Mr. 
Grimwig,  knocking  the  table  also. 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  checking  his  rising 
anger. 

■  We  will,"  replied  Mr.  Grimwig,  with  a  provoking  smile; 
"  we  will." 

As  fate  would  have  it,  Mrs.  Bedwin  chanced  to  bring  in, 
at  this  moment,  a  small  parcel  of  books,  which  Mr.  Brown- 
low  had  that  morning  purchased  of  the  identical  book-stall 
keeper,  who  has  already  figured  in  this  history;  having  laid 
them  on  the  table,  she  prepared  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Stop  the  boy,  Mrs.  Bedwin  !  "  said  Mr.  Brownlow  ; 
•-  there  is  something  to  go  back." 

"  He  has  gone,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Bedwin. 

"  Call  after  him,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow  ;  "  it's  particular.  He 
is  a  poor  man,  and  they  are  not  paid  for.  There  are  some 
books  to  be  taken,  back,  too." 

The  street  door  was  opened.  Oliver  ran  one  way,  and 
the  girl  ran  another  ;  and  Mrs.  Bedwin  stood  on  the  step 
and  screamed  for  the  boy  ;  but  there  was  no  boy  in  sight. 
Oliver  and  the  girl  returned,  in  a  breathless  state,  to  report 
that  there  were  no  tidings  of  him. 

"  Dear  me,  I  am  very  sorry  for  that  !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Brownlow  ;  "  I  particularly  wished  those  books  to  be  re- 
turned to-night."  • 

*  Send  Oliver  with  them,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  with  an 
ironical  smile  ;  "  he  will  be  sure  to  deliver  them  safely, 
you  know." 

"  Yes  ;  do  let  me  take  them,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said 
Oliver.     "I'll  run  all  the  way,  sir." 

The  old  gentleman  was  just  going  to  say  that  Oliver 
should  not  go  out  on  any  account,  when  a  most  malicious 
cough  from  Mr.  Grimwig  determined  him  that  he  should  ; 
and  that,  by  his  prompt  discharge  of  the  commission,  he 
should  prove  to  him  the  injustice  of  his  suspicions,  on  this 
head  at  least,  at  once. 

"  You  shall  go,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  The 
books  are  on  a  chair  by  my  table.     Fetch  them  down." 

Oliver,  delighted  to  be  of  use,  brought  down  the  books 
under  his  arm  in  a  great  bustle  ;  and  waited,  cap  in  hand,  to 
hear  what  message  he  was  to  take. 

"  You  are  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  glancing  steadily 
at  Grimwig  ;  "  you  are  to  say  that  you  have  brought  those 


108  OLIVER  TWIST. 

books  back  ;  and  that  you  have  come  to  pay  the  four  pound 
ten  I  owe  him.  This  is  a  five  pound  note,  so  you  will  have 
to  bring  me  back  ten  shillings  change." 

"  I  won't  be  ten  minutes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  eagerly. 
Having  buttoned  up  the  bank-note  in  his  jacket  pocket,  and 
placed  the  books  carefully  under  his  arm,  he  made  a  respect- 
ful bow,  and  left  the  room.  Mrs.  Bedwin  followed  him  to 
the  street-door,  giving  him  many  directions  about  the  nearest 
way,  and  the  name  of  the  bookseller,  and  the  name  of  the 
street,  all  of  which  Oliver  said  he  clearly  understood.  Hav- 
ing superadded  many  injunctions  to  be  sure  and  not  take 
cold,  the  old  lady  at  length  permitted  him  to  depart. 

"  Bless  his  sweet  face  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  looking  after 
him.  "  I  can't  bear,  somehow,  to  let  him  go  out  of  my 
sight." 

At  this  moment  Oliver  looked  gayly  round,  and  nodded 
before  he  turned  the  corner.  The  old  lady  smilingly  return- 
ed his  salutation,  and  closing  the  door,  went  back  to  her 
own  room. 

"  Let  me  see  ;  he'll  be  back  in  twenty  minutes,  at  the 
longest,"  said  Mr.  Brownlcw,  pulling  out  his  watch  and 
placing  it  on  the  table.     "  It  will  be  dark  by  that  time." 

"  Oh  !  you  really  expect  him  to  come  back,  do  you  ? "  in- 
quired Mr.  Grimwig. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Brownlow,  smiling. 

The  spirit  of  contradiction  was  strong  in  Mr.  Grimwig's 
breast  at  the  moment  ;  and  it  was  rendered  stronger  by  his 
friend's  confident  smile. 

"  No,"  he  said,  smiting  the  table  with  his  fist,  "I  do  not. 
The  boy  has  a  new  suit  of  clothes  on  his  back,  a  set  of  valu- 
able books  under  his  arm,  and  a  five-pound  note  in  his 
pocket.  He'll  join  his  old  friends,  the  thieves,  and  laugh  at 
you.  If  ever  that  boy  returns  to  this  house,  sir,  I'll  eat  my 
head." 

With  these  words  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  table  ; 
and  there  the  two  friends  sat,  in  silent  expectation,  with  the 
watch  between  them. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  as  illustrating  the  importance  we 
attach  to  our  own  judgments,  and  the  pride  with  which 
we  put  forth  our  most  rash  and  hasty  conclusions,  that,  al- 
though Mr.  Grimwig  was  not  by  any  means  a  bad-hearted 
man,  and  though  he  would  have  been  unfeignedly  sorry  to 
see  his  respected  friend  duped  and  deceived,  he  really  did 


OLIVER  TWIST.  xo9 

most  earnestly  and  strongly  hope  at  that  moment  that  Oliver 
Twist  might  not  come  back. 

It  grew  so  dark,  that  the  figures  on  the  dial-plate  were 
scarcely  discernible  ;  but  there  the  two  old  gentlemen  con- 
tinued to  sit,  in  silence,  with  the  watch  between  them. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SHOWING    HOW    VERY    FOND    OF     OLIVER    TWIST    THE    MERRY 
OLD    JEW    AND    MISS    NANCY    WERE. 

In  the  obscure  parlor  of  a  low  public  house,  in  the  filthi- 
est part  of  Little  Saffron  Hill — a  dark  and  gloomy  den, 
where  a  flaring  gas-light  burned  all  day  in  the  winter  time, 
and  where  no  ray  of  sun  ever  shone  in  the  summer — there 
sat,  brooding  over  a  little  pewter  measure  and  a  small  glass, 
strongly  impregnated  with  the  smell  of  liquor,  a  man  in  a 
velveteen  coat,  drab  shorts,  half  boots,  and  stockings,  whom 
even  by  that  dim  light  no  experienced  agent  of  police  would 
have  hesitated  to  recognize  as  Mr.  William  Sikes.  At  his 
feet  sat  a  white-coated  red-eyed  dog  ;  who  occupied  him- 
self, alternately,  in  winking  at  his  master  with  both  eyes  at 
the  same  time,  and  in  licking  a  large,  fresh  cut  on  one  side 
of  his  mouth,  which  appeared  to  be  the  result  of  some  re- 
cent conflict. 

"  Keep  quiet,  you  warmint  !  Keep  quiet  !  "  said  Mr. 
Sikes,  suddenly  breaking  silence.  Whether  his  meditations 
were  so  intense  as  to  be  disturbed  by  the  dog's  winking,  or 
whether  his  feelings  were  so  wrought  upon  by  his  reflections 
that  they  required  all  the  relief  derivable  from  kicking  an 
unoffending  animal  to  allay  them,  is  matter  for  argument 
and  consideration.  Whatever  was  the  cause,  the  effect  was 
a  kick  and  a  curse,  bestowed  upon  the  dog  simultaneously. 

Dogs  are  not  generally  apt  to  revenge  injuries  inflicted 
upon  them  by  their  masters  ;  but  Mr.  Sikes's  dog,  having 
faults  of  temper  in  common  with  his  owner,  and  laboring, 
perhaps,  at  this  moment,  under  a  powerful  sense  of  injury, 
made  no  more  ado  but  at  once  fixed  his  teeth  in  one  of  the 
half-boots.  Having  given  it  a  hearty  shake,  he  retired, 
growling,  under  a  form  ;  just  escaping  the  pewter  measure 
which  Mr.  Sikes  leveled  at  his  head. 


no  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  You  would,  would  you  ? "  said  Sikes,  seizing  the  poker 
in  one  hand,  and  deliberately  opening  with  the  other  a  large 
clasp  knife,  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket.  "  Come  here, 
you  born  devil !  Come  here  !   D'ye  hear  ? " 

The  dog  no  doubt  heard,  because  Mr.  Sikes  spoke  in  the 
very  harshest  key  of  a  very  harsh  voice  ;  but,  appearing  to 
entertain  some  unaccountable  objection  to  having  his  throat 
cut,  he  remained  where  he  was,  and  growled  more  fiercely 
than  before  :  at  the  same  time  grasping  the  end  of  the  poker 
between  his  teeth,  and  biting  at  it  like  a  wild  beast. 

This  resistance  only  infuriated  Mr.  Sikes  the  more  ;  who, 
dropping  on  his  knees,  began  to  assail  the  animal  most  fu- 
riously. The  dog  jumped  from  right  to  left,  and  from  left 
to  right  :  snapping,  growling,  and  barking  ;  the  man  thrust 
and  swore,  and  struck  and  blasphemed  ;  and  the  struggle 
was  reaching  a  most  critical  point  for  one  or  other  ;  when, 
the  door  suddenly  opening,  the  dog  darted  out,  leaving  Bill 
Sikes  with  the  poker  and  clasp-knife  in  his  hands. 

There  must  always  be  two  parties  to  a  quarrel,  says  the 
old  adage.  Mr.  Sikes,  being  disappointed  of  the  dog's  par- 
ticipation, at  once  transferred  his  share  in  the  quarrel  to 
the  new-comer. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  come  in  between  me  and  my 
dog  for  ?  "  said  Sikes,  with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"  I  didn't  know,  my  dear,  I  didn't  know,"  replied  Fagin, 
humbly  ;  for  the  Jew  was  the  new-comer. 

"  Didn't  know,  you  white-livered  thief  !  "  growled  Sikes. 
"Couldn't  you  hear  the  noise  ?" 

"  Not  a  sound  of  it,  as  I'm  a  living  man,  Bill,"  replied  the 
Jew. 

"  Oh  no  !  You  hear  nothing,  you  don't,"  retorted  Sikes 
with  a  fierce  sneer.  "  Sneaking  in  and  out,  so  as  nobody 
hears  how  you  come  or  go  !  I  wish  you  had  been  the  dog, 
Fagin,  half  a  minute  ago." 

"  Why  ?  "  inquired  the  Jew,  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  'Cause  the  Government,  as  care  for  the  lives  of  such  men 
as  you,  as  haven't  half  the  pluck  of  curs,  let's  a  man  kill  a 
dog  how  he  likes,"  replied  Sikes,  shutting  up  the  knife  with 
a  very  expressive  look  ;  "  that's  why." 

The  Jew  rubbed  his  hands  ;  and,  sitting  down  at  the  ta- 
ble, affected  to  laugh  at  the  pleasantry  of  his  friend.  He 
was  obviously  very  ill  at,  ease,  however. 

"  Grin  away,"  said  Sikes,  replacing  the  poker,  and  survey- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  hi 

ing  him  with  savage  contempt;  "grin  away.  You'll  never 
have  the  laugh  at  me,  though,  unless  it's  behind  a  night-cap. 
I've  got  the  upper  hand  over  you,  Fagin  ;  and,  d —  me,  I'll 
keep  it.     There  !  If  I  go,  you  go  ;  so  take  care  of  me." 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  "  I  know  all  that  ; 
we — we — have  a  mutual  interest,  Bill — a  mutual  interest." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Sikes,  as  if  he  thought  the  interest  lay 
rather  more  on  the  Jew's  side  than  on  his.  "Well,  what 
have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ? " 

"  It's  all  passed  safe  through  the  melting-pot,"  replied  Fa- 
gin,  "  and  this  is  your  share.  It's  rather  more  than  it  ought 
to  be,  my  dear  ;  but  as  I  know  you'll  do  me  a  good  turn 
another  time,  and — " 

"  Stow  that  gammon  !  "  interposed  the  robber,  impatient- 
ly.    "  Where  is  it  ?  Hand  over  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Bill  ;  give  me  time,  give  me  time,"  replied  the 
Jew,  soothingly.  "  Here  it  is  !  All  safe  !  "  As  he  spoke,  he 
drew  forth  an  old  cotton  handkerchief  from  his  breast  ;  and 
untying  a  large  knot  in  one  corner,  produced  a  small  brown 
paper  packet.  Sikes,  snatching  it  from  him,  hastily  opened 
it,  and  proceeded  to  count  the  sovereigns  it  contained. 

"  This  is  all,  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Sikes 

"  All,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"You  haven't  opened  the  parcel  and  swallowed  one  or 
two  as  you  come  along,  have  you  ? "  inquired  Sikes,  sus* 
piciously.  "  Don't  put  on  an  injured  look  at  the  question  : 
you've  done  it  many  a  time.     Jerk  the  tinkler." 

These  words,  in  plain  English,  conveyed  an  injunction 
to  ring  the  bell.  It  was  answered  by  another  Jew,  younger 
than   Fagin,  but  nearly  as  vile  and  repulsive  in  appearance. 

Bill  Sikes  merely  pointed  to  the  empty  measure.  The 
Jew,  perfectly  understanding  the  hint,  retired  to  fill  it ;  pre- 
viously exchanging  a  remarkable  look  with  Fagin,  who 
raised  his  eyes  for  an  instant,  as  if  in  expectation  of  it,  and 
snook  his  head  in  reply  ;  so  slightly  that  the  action  would 
have  been  almost  imperceptible  to  an  observant  third  per- 
son. It  was  lost  upon  Sikes,  who  was  stooping  at  the  mo- 
ment to  tie  the  boot  lace  which  the  dbg  had  torn.  Possibly 
if  he  had  observed  the  brief  interchange  of  signals,  he  might 
have  thought  that  it  boded  no  good  to  him. 

"  Is  any  body  here,  Barney  ? "  inquired  Fagin  ;  speaking, 
now  that  Sikes  was  looking  on,  without  raising  his  eyes  from 
the  ground. 


ii2  OLIVER  TWIST 

"  Dot  a  shoul,"  replied  Barney  ;  whose  words,  whether 
they  came  from  the  heart  or  not,  made  their  way  through 
the  nose. 

"  Nobody  ?  "  inquired  Fagin,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  ;  which 
perhaps  might  mean  that  Barney  was  at  liberty  to  tell  the 
truth. 

"Dobody  but  Biss  Dadsy,"  replied  Barney. 

"  Nancy  !  "  exclaimed  Sikes.  "  Where  ?  Strike  me  blind, 
if  I  don't  honor  that  'ere  girl,  for  her  native  talents." 

"  She's  bid  havid  a  plate  of  boiled  beef  id  the  bar,"  re- 
plied Barney. 

"  Send  her  here,"  said  Sikes,  pouring  out  a  glass  of  liquor. 
"  Send  her  here." 

Barney  looked  timidly  at  Fagin,  as  if  for  permission  : 
the  Jew  remaining  silent,  and  not  lifting  his  eyes  from  the 
ground,  he  retired  ;  and  presently  returned,  ushering  in 
Nancy  ;  who  was  decorated  with  the  bonnet,  apron,  basket 
and  street-door  key,  complete. 

"  You  are  on  the  scent,  are  you,  Nancy  ? "  inquired  Sikes, 
proffering  the  glass. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  Bill,"  replied  the  young  lady,  disposing  of 
its  contents  ;  "and  tired  enough  of  it  I  am,  too.  The  young 
brat's  been  ill  and  confined  to  the  crib  ;  and — " 

"  Ah,  Nancy,  dear  ! "  said  Fagin,  looking  up. 

Now,  whether  a  peculiar  contraction  of  the  Jew's  red  eye- 
brows, and  a  half-closing  of  his  deeply  set  eyes,  warned  Miss 
Nancy  that  she  was  disposed  to  be  too  communicative,  is 
not  a  matter  of  much  importance.  The  fact  is  all  we  need 
care  for  here  ;  and  the  fact  is,  that  she  suddenly  checked 
herself,  and  with  several  gracious  smiles  upon  Mr.  Sikes, 
turned  the  conversation  to  other  matters.  In  about  ten 
minutes'  time,  Mr.  Fagin  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing  ; 
upon  which  Nancy  pulled  her  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and 
declared  it  was  time  to  go.  Mr.  Sikes,  finding  that  he 
was  walking  a  short  part  of  her  way  himself,  expressed 
his  intention  of  accompanying  her  ;  they  went  away 
together,  followed  at  a  little  distance,  by  the  dog,  who 
slunk  out  of  a  back 'yard  soon  as  his  master  was  out  of 
sight. 

The  Jew  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  room  door  when  Sikes 
had  left  it  ;  looked  after  him  as  he  walked  up  the  dark  pas- 
sage ;  shook  his  clenched  fist  ;  muttered  a  deep  curse  ;  and 
then,  with  a  horrible  grin,  re-seated  himself  at  the  table  ; 


OLIVER  TWIST.  113 

where  he  was  soon  deeply  absorbed  in  the  interesting  pages 
of  the  Hue-and-Cry. 

Meanwhile,  Oliver  Twist,  little  dreaming  that  he  was  with- 
in so  very  short  a  distance  of  the  merry  old  gentleman,  was 
on  his  way  to  the  book-stall.  When  he  got  into  Clerken- 
well,  he  accidentally  turned  down  a  by-street  which  was  not 
exactly  in  his  way  ;  but  not  discovering  his  mistake  until  he 
had  got  half  way  down  it,  and  knowing  it  must  lead  in  the 
right  direction,  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  turn  back  ; 
and  so  marched  on,  as  quickly  as  he  could,  with  the  books 
under  his  arm. 

He  was  walking  along,  thinking  how  happy  and  content- 
ed he  ought  to  feel  ;  and  how  much  he  would  give  for  only 
one  look  at  poor  little  Dick,  who,  starved  and  beaten,  might 
be  weeping  bitterly  at  that  very  moment  ;  ,when  he  was 
startled  by  a  young  woman  screaming  out  very  loud,  "  Oh,  my 
dear  brother  !  "  And  he  had  hardly  looked  up,  to  see  what 
the  matter  was,  when  he  was  stopped  by  having  a  pair  of 
arms  thrown  tight  round  his  neck. 

"  Don't !  "  cried  Oliver,  struggling.  "  Let  go  of  me  ! 
Who  is  it  ?  What  are  you  stopping  me  for  ?  " 

The  only  reply  to  this  was  a  great  number  of  loud  lamen- 
tations from  the  young  woman  who  had  embraced  him  ;  and 
who  had  a  little  basket  and  a  street  door  key  in  her 
hand. 

"  Oh  my  gracious  !  "  said  the  young  woman,  "  I've  found 
him  !  Oh  !  Oliver  !  Oliver  !  Oh  you  naughty  boy,  to  make 
me  suffer  sich  distress  on  your  account  !  Come  home,  dear, 
come.  Oh,  I've  found  him  !  Thank  gracious  goodness  heav- 
ins,  I've  found  him  !  "  With  these  incoherent  exclamations, 
the  young  woman  burst  into  another  fit  of  crying,  and  got 
so  dreadfully  hysterical,  that  a  couple  of  women  who  came 
up  at  the  moment  asked  a  butcher's  boy  with  a  shiny  head 
of  hair  anointed  with  suet,  who  was  also  looking  on,  whether 
he  didn't  think  he  had  better  run  for  the  doctor.  To  which, 
the  butcher's  boy,  who  appeared  of  a  lounging,  not  to  say 
indolent  disposition,  replied  that  he  thought  not. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  never  mind,"  said  the  young  woman,  grasp- 
ing Oliver's  hand  ;  "  I'm  better  now.  Come  home  directly, 
you  cruel  boy  !  Come  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired  one  of  the  women. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,"  replied  the  young  woman,  "  he  ran  away, 
near  a  month  ago,  from  his  parents,  who  are  hard-working 


**4  OLIVER  TWIST. 

and  respectable  people  ;  and  went  and  joined  a  set  of  thieves 
and  bad  characters  ;  and  almost  broke  his  mother's  heart." 

"  Young  wretch  !  "  said  one  woman. 

"  Go  home,  do,  you  little  brute  !  "  said  the  other. 

" I  am  not,"  replied  Oliver,  greatly  alarmed.  "I  don't 
know  her.  I  haven't  any  sister,  or  father  and  mother 
either.     I'm  an  orphan  ;  I  live  at  Pentonville." 

"  Only  hear  him,  how  he  braves  it  out !  "  cried  the  young 
woman. 

"Why,  it's  Nancy  !  "  exclaimed  Oliver  ;  who  now  saw  her 
face  for  the  first  time  ;  and  started  back  in  irrepressible  as- 
tonishment. 

"You  see  he  knows  me  !"  cried  Nancy,  appealing  to  the 
by-standers.  "  He  can't  help  himself.  Make  him  come 
home,  there's  good  people,  or  he'll  kill  his  dear  mother  and 
father,  and  break  my  heart !  " 

"  What  the  devil's  this  ? "  said  a  man,  bursting  out  of  a 
beer-shop,  with  a  white  dog  at  his  heels  ;  "  young  Oliver  ! 
Come  home  to  your  poor  mother,  you  young  dog  !  Come 
home  directly." 

"  I  don't  belong  to  them.  I  don't  know  them.  Help  ! 
help  !  "  cried  Oliver,  struggling  in  the  man's  powerful  grasp. 

"Help!"  repeated  the  man.  "Yes;  I'll  help  you,  you 
young  rascal !  What  books  are  these  ?  You've  been  a-steal- 
ing  'em,  have  you  ?  Give  'em  here."  With  these  words,  the 
man.  tore  the  volumes  from  his  grasp,  and  struck  him  on  the 
head. 

"  That's  right !  "  cried  a  looker-on,  from  a  garret  window. 
"  That's  the  only  way  of  bringing  him  to  his  senses  !  " 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  cried  a  sleepy-faced  carpenter,  casting  an 
approving  look  at  the  garret-window. 

"It'll do  him  good,"  said  the  two  women. 

"And  he  shall  have  it,  too  ! "  rejoined  the  man,  adminis- 
tering another  blow,  and  seizing  Oliver  by  the  collar.  "  Come 
on,  you  young  villain  !  Here,  Bull's-eye,  mind  him,  boy  ! 
Mind  him  !  " 

Weak  with  recent  illness  ;  stupefied  by  the  blows  and  the 
suddenness  of  the  attack  ;  terrified  by  the  fierce  growling  of 
the  dog,  and  the  brutality  of  the  man  ;  overpowered  by  the 
conviction  of  the  by-standers  that  he  really  was  the  hardened 
little  wretch  he  was  described  to  be  ;  what  could  one  poor  child 
do  !  Darkness  had  set  in;  it  was  a  low  neighborhood  ;  no  help 
was  near  ;  resistance  was  useless.    In  another  moment  he  was 


OLIVER  TWIST.  115 

dragged  into  a  labyrinth  of  dark  narrow  courts,  and  was 
forced  along  them  at  a  pace  which  rendered  the  few  cries  he 
dared  to  give  utterance  to  unintelligible.  It  was  of  little  mo- 
ment, indeed,  whether  they  were  intelligible  or  no  ;  for  there 
was  nobody  to  care  for  them,  had  they   been  ever  so  plain. 

V  *K  TV  TV  Tv  •**  -K 

The  gas-lamps  were  lighted  ;  Mrs.  Bedwin  was  waiting 
anxiously  at  the  open  door  ;  the  servant  had  run  up  the  street 
twenty  times  to  see  if  there  were  any  traces  of  Oliver  ;  and 
still  the  two  old  gentlemen  sat,  perseveringly,  in  the  dark 
parlor,  with  the  watch  between  them. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

RELATES    WHAT  BECAME  OF    OLIVER     TWIST  AFTER    HE   HAD 
BEEN  CLAIMED  BY  NANCY. 

The  narrow  streets  and  courts  at  length  terminated  in  a 
large  open  space,  scattered  about  which  were  pens  for  beasts, 
and  other  indications  of  a  cattle  market.  Sikes  slackened 
his  pace  when  they  reached  this  spot,  the  girl  being  quite  un- 
able to  support  any  longer  the  rapid  rate  at  which  they  had 
hitherto  walked.  Turning  to  Oliver,  he  roughly  commanded 
him  to  take  hold  of  Nancy's  hand. 

"Do  you  hear  ?"  growled  Sikes,  as  Oliver  hesitated  and 
looked  round. 

They  were  in  a  dark  corner,  quite  out  of  the  track  of  pas- 
sengers. Oliver  saw  but  too  plainly  that  resistance  would 
be  of  no  avail.  He  held  out  his  hand,  which  Nancy  clasped 
tight  in  hers. 

"  Give  me  the  other,"  said  Sikes,  seizing  Oliver's  unoccu- 
pied hand.     "  Here,  Bull's-eye  !  " 

"  See  here,  boy  ! "  said  Sikes,  putting  his  other  hand  to 
Oliver's  throat ;  "if  he  speaks  ever  so  soft  a  word,  hold  him  J 
D'ye  mind  !  " 

The  dog  growled  again  ;  and  licking  his  lips,  eyed  Oliver 
as  if  he  were  anxious  to  attach  himself  to  his  windpipe  with- 
out delay. 

"  He's  as  willing  as  a  Christian,  strike  me  blind  if  he  isn't  !" 
said  Sikes,  regarding  the  animal  with  a  kind  of  grim  and  fe- 
rocious approval.     "  Now  you  know  what  you've  got  to  ex- 


u$  OLIVER  TWIST. 

pect,  master,  so  call  away  as  quick  as  you  like  ;  the  dog  will 
soon  stop  that  game.     Get  on,  young  'un  !  " 

Bull's-eye  wagged  his  tail  in  acknowledgment  of  this  un- 
usually endearing  form  of  speech  ;  and,  giving  vent  to  an- 
other admonitory  growl  for  the  benefit  of  Oliver,  led  the 
way  onward. 

It  was  Smithfield  that  they  were  crossing,'  although  it 
might  have  been  Grosvenor  Square  for  any  thing  Oliver  knew 
to  the  contrary.  The  night  was  dark  and  foggy.  The  lights 
in  the  shops  could  scarcely  struggle  through  the  heavy  mist, 
which  thickened  every  moment  and  shrouded  the  streets  and 
houses  in  gloom  ;  rendering  the  strange  place  still  stranger 
in  Oliver's  eyes  ;  and  making  his  uncertainty  the  more  dis- 
mal and  depressing. 

They  had  hurried  on  a  few  paces,  when  a  deep  church-bell 
struck  the  hour.  With  its  first  stroke  his  two  conductors 
stopped  and  turned  their  heads  in  the  direction  whence 
the  sound  proceeded. 

"  Eight  o'clock,  Bill,"  said  Nancy,  when  the  bell  ceased. 

"  What's  the  good  of  telling  me  that  ;  I  can  hear  it,  can't 
I  ?  "  replied  Sikes. 

"  I  wonder  whether  they  can  hear  it,"  said  Nancy. 

u  Of  course  they  can,"  replied  Sikes.  "  It  was  Bartlemy 
time  when  I  was  shopped  ;  and  there  warn't  a  penny  trum- 
pet in  the  fair  as  I  couldn't  hear  the  squeaking  on.  Arter 
I  was  locked  up  for  the  night,  the  row  and  din  outside  made 
the  thundering  old  jail  so  silent,  that  I  could  almost  have 
beat  my  brains  out  against  the  iron  plates  of  the  door." 

"  Poor  fellows  !  "  said  Nancy,  who  still  had  her  face  turned 
toward  the  quarter  in  which  the  bell  had  sounded.  "  Oh, 
Bill,  such  fine  young  chaps  as  them  !  " 

*  Yes  ;  that's  all  you  women  think  of,"  answered  Sikes. 
"  Fine  young  chaps  !  Well,  they're  as  good  as  dead,  so  it 
don't  much  matter." 

With  this  consolation  Mr.  Sikes  appeared  to  repress  a  ris- 
ing tendency  to  jealousy,  and,  clasping  Oliver's  wrist  more 
firmly,  told  him  to  step  out  again. 

"  Wait  a  minute  !  "  said  the  girl,  "  I  wouldn't  hurry  by  if 
it  was  you  that  was  coming  out  to  be  hung  the  next  time 
eight  o'clock  struck,  Bill.  I'd  walk  round  and  round  the 
place  till  I  dropped,  if  the  snow  was  on  the  ground,  and  I 
hadn't  a  shawl  to  cover  me." 

"  And  what  good  would  that  do  ? "  inquired  the   unsenti- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  117 

mental  Mr.  Sikes.  "  Unless  you  could  pitch  over  a  file  and 
hventy  yards  of  good  stout  rope,  you  might  as  well  be  fifty 
mile  off,  or  not  walking  at  all,  for  all  the  good  it  would  do 
me.     Come  on,  and  don't  stand  preaching  there." 

The  girl  burst  into  a  laugh,  drew  her  shawl  more  closely 
around  her,  and  they  walked  away.  But  Oliver  felt  her  hand 
tremble,  and,  looking  up  in  her  face  as  they  passed  a  gas- 
lamp,  saw  that  it  had  turned  a  deadly  white. 

They  walked  on  by  little-frequented  and  dirty  ways, 
for  a  full  half  hour,  meeting  very  few  people,  and  those  ap- 
pearing from  their  looks  to  hold  much  the  same  position  in 
society  as  Mr.  Sikes  himself.  At  length  they  turned  into  a 
very  filthy  narrow  street,  nearly  full  of  old-clothes  shops  ; 
the  dog  running  forward,  as  if  conscious  that  there  was  no 
further  occasion  for  his  keeping  on  guard,  stopped  before 
the  door  of  a  shop  that  was  closed  and  apparently  unten- 
anted ;  the  house  was  in  a  ruinous  condition,  and  on  the  door 
was  nailed  a  board,  intimating  that  it  was  to  let ;  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  hung  there  for  many  years. 

"  All  right,"  cried  Sikes,  glancing  cautiously  about. 

Nancy  stooped  below  the  shutters,  and  Oliver  heard 
the  sound  of  a  bell.  They  crossed  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  under  a  lamp.  A 
noise,  as  if  a  sash-window  were  gently  raised  was  heard  ;  and 
soon  afterward  the  door  softly  opened.  Mr  Sikes  then 
seized  the  terrified  boy  by  the  collar  with  very  little  cere- 
mony, and  all  three  were  quickly  inside  the  house. 

The  passage  was  perfectly  dark.  They  waited,  while  the 
person  who  had  let  them  in  chained  and  barred  the  door. 

"  Any  body  here  ? "  inquired  Sikes. 

"  No,"  replied  a  voice,  which  Oliver  thought  he  had  heard 
before. 

"  Is  the  old  'un  here  ?  "  asked  the  robber. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  voice  ;  "  and  precious  down  in  the 
mouth  he  has  been.  Won't  he  be  glad  to  see  you  ?  Oh, 
no  !  " 

The  style  of  this  reply,  as  well  as  the  voice  which  deliver- 
ed it,  seemed  familiar  to  Oliver's  ears  ;  but  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  distinguish  even  the  form  of  the  speaker  in  the 
darkness. 

"  Let's  have  a  glim,"  said  Sikes,  "  or  we  shall  go  breaking 
our  necks,  or  treading  on  the  dog.  Look  after  your  legs  if 
you  do !  " 


n8  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"Stand  still  a  moment,  and  I'll  get  you  one,""  replied  the 
voice.  The  receding  footsteps  of  the  speaker  were  heard  ; 
and,  in  another  minute,  the  form  of  Mr.  John  Dawkins, 
otherwise  the  artful  Dodger,  appeared.  He  bore  in  his 
right  hand  a  tallow  candle  stuck  in  the  end  of  a  cleft  stick. 

The  young  gentleman  did  not  stop  to  bestow  any  other 
mark  of  recognition  upon  Oliver  than  a  humorous  grin  ;  but 
turning  away,  beckoned  the  visitors  to  follow  him  down  a 
flight  of  stairs.  They  crossed  an  empty  kitchen;  and,  open- 
ing the  door  of  a  low,  earthy-smelling  room,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  built  in  a  small  back-yard,  were  received  with 
a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  Oh,  my  wig,  my  life  !  "  cried  Master  Charles  Bates,  from 
whose  lungs  the  laughter  had  proceeded  ;  "  here  he  is  !  oh,  cry, 
here  he  is  !  Oh,  Fagin,  look  at  him  !  Fagin,  do  look  at  him  ! 
I  can't  bear  it  ;  it  is  such  a  jolly  game,  I  can't  bear  it.  Hold 
me,  somebody,  while  I  laugh  it  out." 

With  this  irrepressible  ebullition  of  mirth,  Master  Bates 
laid  himself  flat  on  the  floor,  and  kicked  convulsively  for 
five  minutes,  in  an  ecstasy  of  facetious  joy.  Then  jumping 
to  his  feet  he  snatched  the  cleft  stick  from  the  Dodger  ;  and 
advancing  to  Oliver,  viewed  him  round  and  round  ;  while 
the  Jew,  taking  off  his  night-cap,  made  a  great  number  of  low 
bows  to  the  bewildered  boy.  The  Artful,  meantime,  who  was 
of  a  rather  saturnine  disposition,  and  seldom  gave  way  to  mer- 
riment when  it  interfered  with  business,  rifled  Oliver's  pock- 
ets with  steady  assiduity. 

"  Look  at  his  togs,  Fagin  !"  said  Charley,  putting  the  light 
so  close  to  his  new  jacket  as  nearly  to  set  him  on  fire.  "  Look 
at  his  togs  !  Superfine  cloth,  and  the  heavy  swell  cut  !  Oh, 
my  eye,  what  a  game  !  And  his  books,  too  !  Nothing  but  a 
gentleman,  Fagin  !  " 

"  Delighted  to  see  you  looking  so  well,  my  dear,"  said  the 
Jew,  bowing  with  mock  humility.  "  The  Artful  shall  give 
you  another  suit,  my  dear,  for  fear  you  should  spoil  that  Sun- 
day one.  Why  didn't  you  write,  my  dear,  and  say  you  were 
coming  ?     We'd  have  got  something  warm  for  supper." 

At  this  Master  Bates  roared  again,  so  loud  that  Fagin 
himself  relaxed,  and  the  Dodger  even  smiled  ;  but  as  the  Art- 
ful drew  forth  the  five-pound  note  at  that  instant,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  sally  or  the  discovery  awakened  his  merriment. 

"  Halloo  !  what's  that  ?  "  inquired  Sikes,  stepping  forward 
as  the  Jew  seized  the  note.     "  That's  mine,  Fagin." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  119 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew.  "  Mine,  Bill,  mine. 
You  shall  have  the  books." 

"  If  that  ain't  mine,"  said  Bill  Sikes,  putting  on  his  hat 
with  a  determined  air — "  mine  and  Nancy's,  that  is — I'll  take 
the  boy  back  again." 

The  Jew  started.  Oliver  started  too,  though  from  a  very 
different  cause  ;  for  he  hoped  that  the  dispute  might  really 
end  in  his  being  taken  back. 

"Come!    Hand  over,  will  you  ?"  said  Sikes. 

"  This  is  hardly  fair,  Bill  ;  hardly  fair,  is  it,  Nancy  ? " 
inquired  the  Jew. 

"  Fair  or  not  fair,"  retorted  Sikes,  "  hand  over,  I  tell  you  ! 
Do  you  think  Nancy  and  me  has  got  nothing  else  to  do 
with  our  precious  time  but  to  spend  it  in  scouting  arter,  and 
kidnapping,  every  young  boy  as  gets  grabbed  through  you  ? 
Give  it  here,  you  avaricious  old  skeleton — give  it  here  !  " 

With  this  gentle  remonstrance,  Mr.  Sikes  plucked  the  note 
from  between  the  Jew's  finger  and  thumb  ;  and  looking  the 
old  man  coolly  in  the  face,  folded  it  up  small,  and  tied  it  in 
his  neckerchief. 

"  That's  for  our  share  of  the  trouble,"  said  Sikes  ;  "  and 
not  half  enough,  neither.  You  may  keep  the  books,  if  you're 
fond  of  reading.     If  you  ain't,  sell  'em." 

"  They're  very  pretty,"  said  Charley  Bates,  who,  with  sun- 
dry grimaces,  had  been  affecting  to  read  one  of  the  volumes 
in  question  :  "  beautiful  writing,  isn't  it,  Oliver  ?  "  At  sight 
of  the  dismayed  look  with  which  Oliver  regarded  his  tor- 
mentors, Master  Bates,  who  was  blessed  with  a  lively  sense 
of  the  ludicrous,  fell  into  another  ecstasy,  more  boisterous 
than  the  first. 

"  They  belong  to  the  old  gentleman,"  said  Oliver,  wring- 
ing his  hands  ;  "  to  the  good  kind  old  gentleman  who  took 
me  into  his  house,  and  had  me  nursed  when  I  was  near  dy- 
ing of  the  fever.  Oh,  pray  send  them  back  ;  send  him  back 
the  books  and  money.  Keep  me  here  all  my  life  long  ;  but 
pray,  pray  send  them  back.  He'll  think  I  stole  them  ;  the 
old  lady — all  of  them  who  were  so  kind  to  me — will  think  I 
stole  them.  Oh,  do  have  mercy  upon  me,  and  send  them 
back  ?" 

With  those  words,  which  were  uttered  with  all  the  energy 
of  passionate  grief,  Oliver  fell  upon  his  knees  at  the  Jew's 
feet,  and  beat  his  hands  together  in  perfect  desperation. 

"  The  boy's   right,"    remarked  Fagin,    looking  covertly 


120  OLIVER  TWIST. 

round,  and  knitting  his  shaggy  eyebrows  into  a  hard  knot. 
"  You're  right,  Oliver,  you're  right  ;  they  will  think  you  have 
stolen  'em.  Ha  !  ha  !  "  chuckled  the  Jew,  rubbing  his  hands, 
'*'  it  couldn't  have  happened  better  if  we  had  chosen  our 
time  ? " 

"  Of  course  it  couldn't,"  replied  Sikes  ;  "  I  know'd  that, 
directly  I  see  him  coming  through  Clerkenwell,  with  the  books 
under  his  arm.  It's  all  right  enough.  They're  soft-hearted 
psalm-singers,  or  they  wouldn't  have  taken  him  in  at  all ;  and 
they'll  ask  no  questions  after  him,  fear  they  should  be  obliged 
to  prosecute,  and  so  get  him  lagged.     He's  safe  enough." 

Oliver  had  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  while  these 
words  were  being  spoken,  as  if  he  were  bewildered,  and 
could  scarcely  understand  what  passed  ;  but  when  Bill 
Sikes  concluded,  he  jumped  suddenly  to  his  feet,  and  tore 
wildly  from  the  room,  uttering  shrieks  for  help,  which  made 
the  bare  old  house  echo  to  the  roof. 

u  Keep  back  the  dog,  Bill !  "  cried  Nancy,  springing  before 
the  door,  and  closing  it,  as  the  Jew  and  his  two  pupils  darted 
out  in  pursuit.  "Keep  back  the  dog  ;  he'll  tear  the  boy  to 
pieces!  " 

"  Serve  him  right  !  "  cried  Sikes,  struggling  to  disengage 
himself  from  the  girl's  grasp.  "  Stand  off  from  me,  or  I'll 
split  your  head  against  the  wall  !  " 

"  I  don't  care  for  that,  Bill,  I  don't  care  for  that,"  screamed 
the  girl,  struggling  violently  with  the  man  :  "  the  child 
sha'n't  be  torn  down  by  the  dog,  unless  you  kill  me 
first." 

"  Sha'n't  he  !  "  said  Sikes,  setting  his  teeth.  "  I'll  soon  do 
that,  if  you  don't  keep  off." 

The  housebreaker  flung  the  girl  from  him  to  the  further 
end  of  the  room,  just  as  the  Jew  and  the  two  boys  re- 
turned, dragging  Oliver  among  them. 

"  What's  the  matter  here,"  said  Fagin,  looking  round. 

"  The  girl's  gone  mad,  I  think,"  replied  Sikes,  savagely. 

"  No,  she  hasn't,"  said  Nancy,  pale  and  breathless  from 
the  scuffle  ;  "  no,  she  hasn't,  Fagin  ;  don't  think  it." 

"  Then  keep  quiet,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  with  a  threat- 
ening look. 

u  No,  I  won't  do  that,  neither,"  replied  Nancy,  speaking 
very  loud.     "  Come  !     What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Fagin  was  sufficiently  well  acquainted  with  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  that  particular  species  of  humanity  to 


OLIVER  TWIST.  itt 

which  Nancy  belonged  to  feel  tolerably  certain  that  it 
would  be  rather  unsafe  to  prolong  any  conversation  with 
her  at  present.  With  the  view  of  diverting  the  attention 
of  the  company,  he  turned  to  Oliver. 

"  So  you  wanted  to  get  away,  my  dear,  did  you?  "  said  the 
Jew,  taking  up  a  jagged  and  knotted  club  which  lay  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  fireplace  ;  "  eh  ?  " 

Oliver  made  no  reply,  but  he  watched  the  Jew's  motions, 
and  breathed  quickly. 

"  Wanted  to  get  assistance  ;  called  for  the  police,  did  you  ?  " 
sneered  the  Jew,  catching  the  boy  by  the  arm.  "  We'll  cure 
you  of  that,  my  young  master." 

The  Jew  inflicted  a  smart  blow  on  Oliver's  shoulders  with 
the  club  ;  and  was  raising  it  for  a  second,  when  the  girl, 
rushing  forward,  wrested  it  from  his  hand.  She  flung  it  into 
the  fire,  with  a  force  that  brought  some  of  the  glowing  coals 
whirling  out  into  the  room. 

"  I  won't  stand  by  and  see  it  done,  Fagin,"  cried  the  girl. 
"  You've  got  the  boy,  and  what  more  would  you  have  ?  Let 
him  be — let  him  be — or  I  shall  put  that  mark  on  some  of 
you,  that  will  bring  me  to  the  gallows  before  my  time." 

The  girl  stamped  her  foot  violently  on  the  floor  as  she 
vented  this  threat ;  and  with  her  lips  compressed,  and  her 
hands  clenched,  looked  alternately  at  the  Jew  and  the  other 
robber  :  her  face  quite  colorless  from  the  passion  of  rage 
into  which  she  had  gradually  worked  herself. 

"Why,  Nancy,"  said  the  Jew,  in  a  soothing  tone  ;  after  a 
pause,  during  which  he  and  Mr.  Sikes  had  stared  at  one  an- 
other in  a  disconcerted  manner  ;  "  you — you're  more  clever 
than  ever  to-night.  Ha  !  ha  !  my  dear,  you  are  acting  beau- 
tifully." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  said  the  girl.  "  Take  care  I  don't  overdo  it. 
You  will  be  the  worse  for  it,  Fagin,  if  I  do  ;  and  so  I  tell 
you  in  good  time  to  keep  clear  of  me." 

There  is  something  about  a  roused  woman  :  especially  if 
she  add  to  all  her  other  strong  passions  the  fierce  impulses 
of  recklessness  and  despair  :  which  few  men  like  to  provoke. 
The  Jew  saw  that  it  would  be  hopeless  to  affect  any  further 
mistake  regarding  the  reality  of  Miss  Nancy's  rage  ;  and 
shrinking  involuntarily  back  a  few  paces,  cast  a  glance,  half 
imploring  and  half  cowardly,  at  Sikes  :  as  if  to  hint  that  he 
was  the  fittest  person  to  pursue  the  dialogue. 

Mr.  Sikes  thus  mutely  appealed  to  ;    and  possibly  feeling 


122  OLIVER  TWIST. 

nis  personal  pride  and  influence  interested  in  the  imme- 
diate reduction  of  Miss  Nancy  to  reason  ;  gave  utterance 
to  about  a  couple  of  score  of  curses  and  threats,  the  rapid 
production  of  which  reflected  grea^  credit  on  the  fertility  of 
his  invention.  As  they  produced  no  visible  effect  on  the  ob- 
ject against  whom  they  were  discharged,  however,  he  resort- 
ed to  more  tangible  arguments. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  ?  "  said  Sikes  ;  backing  the 
inquiry  with  a  very  common  imprecation  concerning  the 
most  beautiful  of  human  features  ;  which,  if  it  were  heard 
above,  only  once  out  of  every  fifty  thousand  times  that  it  is 
uttered  below,  would  render  blindness  as  common  a  disor- 
der as  measles  :  "  what  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  Burn  my  body! 
Do  you  know  who  you  are,  and  what  you  are  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  about  it,"  replied  the  girl,  laughing 
hysterically,  and  shaking  her  head  from  side  to  side  with  a 
poor  assumption  of  indifference. 

"  Well,  then,  keep  quiet,"  rejoined  Sikes,  with  a  growl  like 
that  he  was  accustomed  to  use  when  addressing  his  dog,  "or 
I'll  quiet  you  for  a  good  long  time  to  come." 

The  girl  laughed  again,  even  less  composedly  than  before  ; 
and  darting  a  hasty  look  at  Sikes,  turned  her  face  and  bit 
her  lip  till  the  blood  came. 

"You're  a  nice  one,"  added  Sikes,  as  he  surveyed  her  with  a 
contemptuous  air,  "to  take  up  the  humane  and  gen-teel  side! 
A  pretty  subject  for  the  child,  as  you  call  him,  to  make  a 
friend  of." 

"  God  Almighty  help  me,  I  am  ! "  cried  the  girl  passion- 
ately •  "and  I  wish  1  had"  been  struck  dead  in  the  street, 
or  changed  places  with  them  we  passed  so  near  to-night, 
before  I  had  lent  a  hand  in  bringing  him  here.  He's  a  thief, 
a  liar,  a  devil,  all  that's  bad,  from  this  night  forth.  Isn't 
that  enough  for  the  old  wretch  without  blows  ? " 

"  Come,  come,  Sikes,"  said  the  Jew,  appealing  to  him  in  a 
remonstratory  tone  and  motioning  toward  the  boys,  who  were 
eagerly  attentive  to  all  that  passed  ;  "  we  must  have  civil 
words — civil  words,  Bill." 

"Civil  words,"  cried  the  girl,  whose  passion  was  frightful 
to  see.  "  Civil  words,  you  villain  !  Yes,  you  deserve 'em 
from  me.  I  thieved  for  you  when  I  was  a  child  not  half  as 
old  as  this  !"  pointing  to  Oliver.  "  I  have  been  in  the  same 
trade,  and  in  the  same  service,  for  twelve  years  since.  Don't 
you  know  it  ?     Speak  out  !     Don't  you  know  it  ?  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  123 

"Well,  well,"  replied  the  Jew,  with  an  attempt  at  pacifica- 
tion; "  and  if  you  have,  it's  your  living." 

"Ay,  it  is  !"  returned  the  girl  ;  not  speaking  but  pouring 
out  the  words  in  one  continuous  and  vehement  scream.  "It 
is  my  living,  and  the  cold,  wet,  dirty  streets  are  my  home  ; 
and  you're  the  wretch  that  drove  me  to  them  long  ago,  and 
that'll  keep  me  there,  day  and  night,  day  and  night,  till  I  die  !  " 

"  I  shall  do  you  a  mischief  !  "  interposed  the  Jew,  goaded 
by  these  reproaches  ;  "  a  mischief  worse  than  that,  if  you 
say  much  more  !  " 

The  girl  said  nothing  more  ;  but  tearing  her  hair  and  dress 
in  a  transport  of  passion,  made  such  a  rush  at  the  Jew  as 
would  probably  have  left  signal  marks  of  her  revenge  upon 
him,  had  not  her  wrists  been  seized  by  Sikes  at  the  right 
moment  ;  upon  which  she  made  a  few  ineffectual  struggles, 
and  fainted. 

"  She's  all  right  now,"  said  Sikes,  laying  her  down  in  a  cor- 
ner. "  She's  uncommon  strong  in  the  arms,  when  she's  up 
in  this  way." 

The  Jew  wiped  his  forehead,  and  smiled,  as  if  it  were  a 
relief  to  have  the  disturbance  over ;  but  neither  he,  nor 
Sikes,  nor  the  dog,  nor  the  boys,  seemed  to  consider  it  in  any 
other  light  than  a  common  occurrence  incidental  to  business. 

"It's  the  worst  of  having  to  do  with  women,"  said  the 
Jew,  replacing  his  club  ;  "  but  they're  clever,  and  we  can't 
get  on,  in  our  line,  without  'em.  Charley,  show  Oliver  to 
bed." 

"  I  suppose  he'd  better  not  wear  his  best  clothes  to-mor- 
row, Fagin,  had  he  ?  "  inquired  Charley  Bates. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  Jew,  reciprocating  the  grin 
with  which  Charley  put  the  question. 

Master  Bates,  apparently  much  delighted  with  his  com- 
mission, took  the  cleft  stick,  and  led  Oliver  into  an  adjacent 
kitchen,  where  there  were  two  or  three  of  the  beds  on  which 
he  had  slept  before  ;  and  here,  with  many  uncontrollable 
bursts  of  laughter,  he  produced  the  identical  old  suit  of 
clothes  which  Oliver  had  so  much  congratulated  himself  upon 
leaving  off  at  Mr.  Brownlow's  ;  and  the  accidental  display 
of  which,  to  Fagin,  by  the  Jew  who  purchased  them,  had 
been  the  very  first  clue  received  of  his  whereabout. 

"  Pull  off  the  smart  ones,"  said  Charley,  "  and  I'll  give 
'em  to  Fagan,  to  take  care  of.     What  fun  it  is  ! " 

Poor  Oliver  unwillingly  complied.     Master  Bates  rolling 


i24  OLIVER  TWIST. 

up  the  new  clothes  under  his  arm,  departed  from  the  room, 
leaving  Oliver  in  the  dark,  and  locking  the  door  behind  him. 
The  noise  of  Charley's  laughter,  and  the  voice  of  Miss 
Betsy,  who  opportunely  arrived  to  throw  water  over  her 
friend,  and  perform  other  feminine  offices  for  the  promotion 
of  her  recovery,  might  have  kept  many  people  awake  under 
more  happy  circumstances  than  those  in  which  Oliver  was 
placed.  But  he  was  sick  and  weary  ;  and  he  soon  fell  sound 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Oliver's   destiny    continuing   unpropitious,  brings  a 
great  man  to  london  to  injure  his  reputation. 

It  is  the  custom  on  the  stage,  in  all  good  murderous  melo- 
dramas, to  present  the  tragic  and  the  comic  scenes,  in  a  regu- 
lar alternation,  as  the  layers  of  red  and  white  in  a  side  of 
streaky  bacon.  The  hero  sinks  upon  his  straw  bed,  weighed 
down  by  fetters  and  misfortunes  ;  in  the  next  scene,  his 
faithful  but  unconscious  squire  regales  the  audience  with  a 
comic  song.  We  behold,  with  throbbing  bosoms,  the  heroine 
in  the  grasp  of  a  proud  and  ruthless  baron,  her  virtue  and 
her  life  alike  in  danger,  drawing  forth  her  dagger  to  preserve 
the  one  at  the  cost  of  the  other  ;  and  just  as  our  expecta- 
tions are  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch,  a  whistle  is  heard, 
and  we  are  straightway  transported  to  the  great  hall  of  the 
castle  ;  where  a  gray-headed  seneschal  sings  a  funny  chorus 
with  a  funny  body  of  vassals,  who  are  free  of  all  sorts  of 
places,  from  church  vaults  to  palaces,  and  roam  about  in 
company,  caroling  perpetually. 

Such  changes  appear  absurd  ;  but  they  are  not  so  unnatu- 
ral as  they  would  seem  at  first  sight.  The  transitions  in  real 
life  from  well-spread  boards  to  death-beds,  and  from  mourn- 
ing weeds  to  holiday  garments,  are  not  a  whit  less  startling  ; 
only  there  we  are  busy  actors,  instead  of  passive  lookers-on, 
which  makes  a  vast  difference.  The  actors  in  the  mimic  life 
of  the  theater  are  blind  to  violent  transitions  and  abrupt  im- 
pulses of  passion  or  feeling,  which,  presented  before  the  eyes 
of  mere  spectators,  are  at  once  condemned  as  outrageous 
and  preposterous. 

As  sudden  shiftings  of  the  scene,  and  rapid  changes  of 


OLIVER  TWIST.  125 

time  and  place,  are  not  only  sanctioned  in  books  by  long 
usage,  but  are  by  many  considered  as  the  great  art  of  author- 
ship— an  author's  skill  in  his  craft  being,  by  such  critics, 
chiefly  estimated  with  relation  to  the  dilemmas  in  which  he 
leaves  his  characters  at  the  end  of  every  chapter — this  brief 
introduction  to  the  present  one  may  perhaps  be  deemed  un- 
necessary. If  so,  let  it  be  considered  a  delicate  intimation 
on  the  part  of  the  historian  that  he  is  going  back  to  the  town 
in  which  Oliver  Twist  was  born  ;  the  reader  taking  it  for 
granted  that  there  are  good  and  substantial  reasons  for  mak- 
ing the  journey,  or  he  would  not  be  invited  to  proceed  upon 
such  an  expedition. 

Mr.  Bumble  emerged  at  early  morning  from  the  work-house 
gate,  and  walked  with  portly  carriage  and  commanding  steps 
up  the  High  Street.  He  was  in  the  full  bloom  and  pride  of 
beadlehood  ;  his  cocked  hat  and  coat  were  dazzling  in  the 
morning  sun  ;  he  clutched  his  cane  with  the  vigorous  tenacity 
of  health  and  power.  Mr.  Bumble  always  carried  his  head 
high  ;  but  this  morning  it  was  higher  than  usual.  There  was 
an  abstraction  in  his  eye,  an  elevation  in  his  air,  which  might 
have  warned  an  observant  stranger  that  thoughts  were  pass- 
ing in  the  beadle's  mind  too  great  for  utterance. 

Mr.  Bumble  stopped  not  to  converse  with  the  small  shop- 
keepers and  others  who  spoke  to  him  deferentially,  as  he 
passed  along.  He  merely  returned  their  salutations  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  and  relaxed  not  in  his  dignified  pace  un- 
til he  reached  the  farm  where  Mrs.  Mann  tended  the  infant 
paupers  with  parochial  care. 

"  Drat  that  beadle  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mann,  hearing  the  well- 
known  shaking  at  the  garden-gate.  "  If  it  isn't  him  at  this 
time  in  the  morning  !  Lauk,  Mr.  Bumble,  only  think  of  its 
being  you  !  Well,  dear  me,  it  is  a  pleasure,  this  is  !  Come 
into  the  parlor,  sir,  please." 

The  first  sentence  was  addressed  to  Susan  ;  and  the  ex- 
clamations of  delight  were  uttered  to  Mr.  Bumble,  as  the  good 
lady  unlocked  the  garden-gate,  and  showed  him,  with  great 
attention  and  respect,  into  the  house. 

"  Mrs.  Mann,"  said  Mr.  Bumble — not  sitting  upon,  or 
dropping  himself  into  a  seat,  as  any  common  jackanapes 
would,  but  letting  himself  gradually  and  slowly  down  into  a 
chair — "  Mrs.  Mann,  ma'am,  good-morning." 

"Well,  and  good-morning  to  you,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Mann, 
with  many  smiles  ;  "  and  hoping  you  find  yourself  well,  sir." 


1*6  -   OLIVER  TWIST. 

"So-so,  Mrs.  Mann,"  replied  the  beadle.  "Aporochial 
life  is  not  a  bed  of  roses,  Mrs.  Mann." 

"Ah,  that  it  isn't  indeed,  Mr.  Bumble,"  rejoined  the  lady. 
And  all  the  infant  paupers  might  have  chorused  the  rejoin- 
der with  great  propriety,  if  they  had  heard  it. 

"  A  porochial  life,  ma'am,"  continued  Mr.  Bumble,  strik- 
ing the  table  with  his  cane,  "  is  a  life  of  worrit,  and  vexation, 
and  hardihood  ;  but  all  public  characters,  as  I  may  say,  must 
suffer  prosecution." 

Mrs.  Mann,  not  very  well  knowing  what  the  beadle  meant, 
raised  her  hands  with  a  look  of  sympathy,  and  sighed. 

"  Ah  !     You  may  well  sigh,  M^rs.  Mann  !  "  said  the  beadle. 

Finding  she  had  done  right,  Mrs.  Mann  sighed  again  : 
evidently  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  public  character,  who, 
repressing  a  complacent  smile  by  looking  sternly  at  his 
cocked  hat,  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Mann,  I'm  going  to  London." 

"Lauk,  Mr.  Bumble  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Mann,  starting  back. 

"To  London,  ma'am,"  resumed  the  inflexible  beadle,  "by 
coach.  I  and  two  paupers,  Mrs.  Mann  !  A  legal  action  is 
a-coming  on  about  a  settlement  ;  and  the  board  has  ap- 
pointed me — me,  Mrs.  Mann — to  depose  to  the  matter  before 
the  Quarter-sessions  at  Clerkinwell.  And  I  very  much  ques- 
tion," added  Mr.  Bumble,  drawing  himself  up,  "  whether  the 
Clerkinwell  Sessions  will  not  find  themselves  in  the  wrong 
box  before  they  have  done  with  me." 

"  Oh  !  you  mustn't  be  too  hard  upon  them,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Mann,  coaxingiy. 

"  The  Clerkinwell  Sessions  have  brought  it  upon  them- 
selves, ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble  ;  "  and  if  the  Clerkin- 
well Sessions  find  that  they  come  off  rather  worse  than  they 
expected,  the  Clerkinwell  Sessions  have  only  themselves  to 
thank." 

There  was  so  much  determination  and  depth  of  purpose 
about  the  menacing  manner  in  which  Mr.  Bumble  delivered 
himself  of  these  words,  that  Mrs.  Mann  appeared  quite  awed 
by  them.     At  length  she  said, 

"  You're  going  by  coach,  sir  ?  I  thought  it  was  always 
usual  to  send  them  paupers  in  carts." 

"  That's  when  they're  ill,  Mrs.  Mann,"  said  the  beadle. 
"  We  put  the  sick  paupers  into  open  carts  in  the  rainy 
weather,  to  prevent  their  taking  cold." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mann. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  127 

"  The  opposition  coach  contracts  for  these  two,  and  takes 
them  cheap,"  said  Mr.  Bumble.  "  They  are  both  in  a  very- 
low  state,  and  we  find  it  would  come  two  pound  cheaper  to 
move  'em  than  to  bury  'em — that  is,  if  we  can  throw  'em 
upon  another  parish,  which  1  think  we  shall  be  able  to  do,  if 
they  don't  die  upon  the  road  to  spite  us.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

When  Mr.  Bumble  had  laughed  a  little  while,  his  eyes 
again  encountered  the  cocked  hat,  and  he  became  grave. 

"  We  are  forgetting  business,  ma'am,"  said  the  beadle  ; 
"here  is  your  porochial  stipend  for  the  month." 

Mr.  Bumble  produced  some  silver  money  rolled  up  in  a 
paper  from  his  pocket-book,  and  requested  a  receipt  ;  which 
Mrs.  Mann  wrote. 

"  It's  very  much  blotted,  sir,"  said  the  farmer  of  infants  ; 
"  but  it's  formal  enough,  I  dare  say.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Bum- 
ble, sir,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure." 

Mr.  Bumble  nodded  blandly,  in  acknowledgment  of  Mrs. 
Mann's  courtesy  ;  and  inquired  how  the  children  were. 

"  Bless  their  dear  little  hearts  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mann,  with 
emotion,  "  they're  as  well  as  can  be,  the  dears  !  Of  course, 
except  the  two  that  died  last  week.     And  little  Dick." 

"  Isn't  that  boy  no  better  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Bumble. 

Mrs.  Mann  shook  her  head. 

"  He's  a  ill-conditioned,  wicious,  bad-disposed  porochial 
child  that,"  said  Mr.  Bumble  angrily.     "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I'll  bring  him  to  you  in  one  minute,  sir,"  replied  Mrs. 
Mann.     "  Here,  you  Dick  !  " 

After  some  calling,  Dick  was  discovered.  Having  had  his 
face  put  under  the  pump,  and  dried  upon  Mrs.  Mann's 
gown,  he  was  led  into  the  awful  presence  of  Mr.  Bumble, 
the  beadle. 

The  child  was  pale  and  thin  ;  his  cheeks  were  sunken  ; 
and  his  eyes  large  and  bright.  The  scanty  parish  dress,  the 
livery  of  his  misery,  hung  loosely  on  his  feeble  body  ;  and 
his  young  limbs  had  wasted  away  like  those  of  an  old 
man. 

Such  was  the  little  being  who  stood  trembling  beneath 
Mr.  Bumble's  glance  ;  not  daring  to  lift  his  eyes  from  the 
floor  ;  and  dreading  even  to  hear  the  beadle's  voice. 

"  Can't  you  look  at  the  gentleman,  you  obstinate  boy  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Mann. 

The  child  meekly  raised  his  eyes,  and  encountered  those 
of  Mr.  Bumble. 


128  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  porochial  Dick  i  "  inquired 
Mr.  Bumble,  with  well-timed  jocularity. 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  replied  the  child,  faintly. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Mrs.  Mann,  who  had,  of  course, 
laughed  very  much  at  Mr.  Bumble's  humor.  "  You  want  for 
nothing,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  should  like—"  faltered  the  child. 

"  Heyday  !  "  interposed  Mrs.  Mann,  4*  I  suppose  you're 
going  to  say  that  you  do  want  for  something,  now  ?  Why, 
you  little  wretch — " 

"  Stop,  Mrs.  Mann,  stop  !  "  said  the  beadle,  raising  his 
hand  with  a  show  of  authority.     "  Like  what,  sir,  eh  ? " 

"I  should  like,"  faltered  the  child,  "if  somebody  that  can 
write  would  put  a  few  words  down  for  me  on  a  piece  of 
paper,  and  fold  it  up  and  seal  it,  and  keep  it  for  me,  after  I 
am  laid  in  the  ground." 

"  Why,  what  does  the  boy  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bum- 
ble, on  whom  the  earnest  manner  and  wan  aspect  of  the 
child  had  made  some  impression,  accustomed  as  he  was  to 
such  things.     "  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  should  like,"  said  the  child,  "  to  leave  my  dear  love  to 
poor  Oliver  Twist ;  and  to  let  him  know  how  often  I  have 
sat  by  myself  and  cried  to  think  of  his  wandering  about  in 
the  dark  nights  with  nobody  to  help  him.  And  I  should 
like  to  tell  him,"  said  the  child,  pressing  his  small  hands  to- 
gether, and  speaking  with  great  fervor,  "  that  I  was  glad  to 
die  when  I  was  very  young  ;  for,  perhaps,  if  I  had  lived  to 
be  a  man,  and  had  grown  old,  my  little  sister,  who  is  in 
heaven,  might  forget  me,  or  be  unlike  me,  and  it  would  be 
so  much  happier  if  we  were  both  children  there  to- 
gether." 

Mr.  Bumble  surveyed  the  little  speaker  from  head  to  foot 
with  indescribable  astonishment  ;  and,  turning  to  his  com- 
panion, said,  "  They're  all  in  one  story,  Mrs.  Mann.  That 
out-dacious  Oliver  has  demogalized  them  all  !  " 

"  I  couldn't  have  believed  it,  sir  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mann,  hold- 
ing up  her  hands,  and  looking  malignantly  at  Dick.  "  I 
never  see  such  a  hardened  little  wretch  !  " 

"  Take  him  away,  ma'am  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  imperious- 
ly.    "This  must  be  stated  to  the  board,  Mrs.  Mann." 

"  I  hope  the  gentlemen  will  understand  that  it  isn't  my 
fault,  sir  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mann,  whimpering  pathetically. 

"  They  shall  understand  that,  ma'am  ;  they  shall  be  ac- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  129 

quainted  with  the  true  state  of  the  case,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 
There  ;  take  him  away  ;  I  can't  bear  the  sight  on  him." 

Dick  was  immediately  taken  away  and  locked  up  in  the 
coal-cellar.  Mr.  Bumble  shortly  afterward  took  himself  off 
to  prepare  for  his  journey. 

At  six  o'clock  next  morning,  Mr.  Bumble — having  ex- 
changed his  cocked  hat  for  a  round  one,  and  incased  his 
person  in  a  blue  great-coat  with  a  cape  to  it — took  his  place 
on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  accompanied  by  the  criminals 
whose  settlement  was  disputed  ;  with  whom,  in  due  course 
of  time,  he  arrived  in  London.  He  experienced  no  other 
crosses  on  the  way  than  those  which  originated  in  the  per- 
verse behavior  of  the  two  paupers,  who  persisted  in  shiver- 
ing and  complaining  of  the  cold,  in  a  manner  which  Mr. 
Bumble  declared,  caused  his  teeth  to  chatter  in  his  head, 
and  made  him  feel  quite  uncomfortable,  although  he  had  a 
great-coat  on. 

Having  disposed  of  these  evil-minded  persons  for  the 
night,  Mr.  Bumble  sat  himself  down  in  the  house  at  which 
the  coach  stopped  ;  and  took  a  temperate  dinner  of  steaks, 
oyster-sauce,  and  porter.  Putting  a  glass  of  hot  gin-and- 
water  on  the  chimney-piece,  he  drew  his  chair  to  the  fire  ; 
and,  with  sundry  moral  reflections  on  the  too  prevalent  sin 
of  discontent  and  complaining,  composed  himself  to  read 
the  paper. 

The  very  first  paragraph  upon  which  Mr.  Bumble's  eye 
rested  was  the  following  advertisement  : 

"FIVE  GUINEAS  REWARD. 

"Whereas  a  young  bo  v,  named  Oliver  Twist,  absconded,  or  was  en- 
ticed, on  Thursday  evening  last,  from  his  home,  at  Pentonville,  and  has 
not  since  been  heard  of.  The  above  reward  will  be  paid  to  any  person 
who  will  give  such  information  as  will  lead  to  the  discovery  of  the  said 
Oliver  Twist,  or  tend  to  throw  any  light  upon  his  previous  history,  in 
which  the  advertiser  is,  for  many  reasons,  warmly  interested." 

And  then  followed  a  full  description  of  Oliver's  dress, 
person,  appearance,  and  disappearance  ;  with  the  name  and 
address  of  Mr.  Brownlow  at  full  length. 

Mr.  Bumble  opened  his  eyes  ;  read  the  advertisement, 
slowly  and  carefully,  three  several  times  ;  and  in  something 
more  than  five  minutes  was  on  his  way  to  Pentonville  ;  hav- 
ing actually,  in  his  excitement,  left  the  glass  of  hot  gin-and- 
water  untasted. 


130  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Is  Mr.  Brownlow  at  home  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Bumble  ot 
the  girl  who  opened  the  door. 

To  this  inquiry  the  girl  returned  the  not  uncommon,  but 
rather  evasive  reply  of,  "  I  don't  know  ;  where  do  you  come 
from  ?  " 

Mr.  Bumble  no  sooner  uttered  Oliver's  name,  in  explana- 
tion of  his  errand,  than  Mrs.  Bedwin,  who  had  been  listen- 
ing at  the  parlor-door,  hastened  into  the  passage  in  a  breath- 
less state. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  said  the  old  lady  :  "  I  knew  we 
s.hou)d  hear  of  him.  Poor  dear  !  I  knew  we  should.  I 
was  certain  of  it.     Bless  his  heart  !     I  said  so,  all  along." 

Having  said  this,  the  worthy  old  lady  hurried  back  into 
the  parlor  again  ;  and  seating  herself  on  a  sofa,  burst  into 
tears.  The  girl,  who  was  not  quite  so  susceptible,  had  run 
up  stairs  meanwhile  ;  and  now  returned  with  a  request  that 
Mr.  Bumble  would  follow  her  immediately ;  which  he 
did. 

He  was  shown  into  the  little  back  study,  where  sat  Mr. 
Brownlow  and  his  friend  Mr.  Grimwig,  with  decanters  and 
glasses  before  them.  The  latter  gentleman  at  once  burst 
into  the  exclamation  : 

"  A  beadle  !     A  parish  beadle,  or  I'll  eat  my  head  !  " 

"  Pray  don't  interrupt  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow. 
"  Take  a  seat,  will  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Bumble  sat  himself  down,  quite  confounded  by  the 
oddity  of  Mr.  Grimwig's  manner.  Mr.  Brownlow  moved 
the  lamp,  so  as  to  obtain  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the 
beadle's  countenance  ;  and  said,  with  a  little  impatience, 

"Now,  sir,  you  come  in  consequence  of  having  seen  the 
advertisement  ?  " 

w  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  And  you  are  a  beadle,  are  you  not  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Grimwig. 

"lama  porochial  beadle,  gentlemen,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bum- 
ble, proudly. 

Of  course,"  observed  Mr.  Grimwig,  aside,  to  his  friend. 
"  I  knew  he  was.     A  beadle  all  over  !  " 

Mr.  Brownlow  gently  shook  his  head  to  impose  silence  on 
his  friend,  and  resumed  : 

"  Do  you  know  where  this  poor  boy  is  now  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  nobody,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble." 

"  Well,  what   do  you   know  of  him  ?  "  inquired   the  old 


OLIVER  TWIST.  131 

gentleman.  "  Speak  out,  my  friend,  if  you  have  any  thing 
to  say.     What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 

"  You  don't  happen  to  know  any  good  of  him,  do  you  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Grimwig,  caustically  ;  after  an  attentive  perusal  of 
Mr.  Bumble's  features. 

Mr.  Bumble,  catching  at  the  inquiry  very  quickly,  shook 
his  head  with  portentous  solemnity. 

"  You  see  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  looking  triumphantly  at 
Mr.  Brownlow. 

Mr.  Brownlow  looked  apprehensively  at  Mr.  Bumble's 
pursed-up  countenance  ;  and  requested  him  to  communicate 
what  he  knew  regarding  Oliver,  in  as  few  words  as 
possible. 

Mr.  Bumble  put  down  his  hat ;  unbuttoned  his  coat  ; 
folded  his  arms  ;  inclined  his  head  in  a  retrospective  man- 
ner ;  and  after  a  few  moments'  reflection,  commenced  his 
story. 

It  would  be  tedious  if  given  in  the  beadle's  words,  oc- 
cupying, as  it  did,  some  twenty  minutes  in  the  telling  ;  but 
the  sum  and  substance  of  it  was,  that  Oliver  was  a  found- 
ling, born  of  low  and  vicious  parents.  That  he  had,  from 
his  birth,  displayed  no  better  qualities  than  treachery,  in- 
gratitude, and  malice.  That  he  had  terminated  his  brief 
career  in  the  place  of  his  birth,  by  making  a  sanguinary  and 
cowardly  attack  on  an  unoffending  lad,  and  running  away 
in  the  night-time  from  his  master's  house.  In  proof  of  his 
2>eing  really  the  person  he  represented  himself,  Mr.  Bumble 
laid  upon  the  table  the  papers  he  had  brought  to  town. 
Folding  his  arms  again,  he  then  awaited  Mr.  Brownlow's  ob- 
servations. 

"I  fear  it  is  all  too  true,"  said  the  old  gentleman  sorrow- 
fully, after  looking  over  the  papers.  "  This  is  not  much  for 
your  intelligence  ;  but  I  would  gladly  have  given  you  treble 
the  money,  if  it  had  been  favorable  to  the  boy." 

It  is  not  improbable  that  if  Mr.  Bumble  had  been  possess- 
ed of  this  information  at  an  earlier  period  of  the  interview, 
he  might  have  imparted  a  very  different  coloring  to  his  little 
history.  It  was  too  late  to  do  it  now,  however  ;  so  he  shook 
his  head  gravely,  and,  pocketing  the  five  guineas,  withdrew. 

Mr.  Brownlow  paced  the  room  to  and  fro  for  some  min- 
utes ;  evidently  so  much  disturbed  by  the  beadle's  tale,  that 
even  Mr.  Grimwig  forbore  to  vex  him  further. 

At  length  he  stopped,  and  rang  the  bell  violently. 


132  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Mrs.  Bedwin,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  when  the  house- 
keeper appeared  ;  "that  boy,  Oliver,  is  an  impostor." 

"  It  can't  be,  sir.  It  can  not  be,"  said  the  old  lady,  en- 
ergetically. 

.  I  tell  you  he  is,"  retorted  the  old  gentleman.  *'  What  do 
you  mean  by  can't  be  ?  We  have  just  heard  a  full  account 
of  him  from  his  birth  ;  and  he  has  been  a  thorough-paced 
little  villain  all  his  life." 

"  I  never  will  believe  it,  sir,"  replied  the  old  lady,  firmly. 
"  Never." 

"You  old  women  never  believe  any  thing,  but  quack  doc- 
tors and  lying  story-books,"  growled  Mr.  Grimwig.  "  I 
knew  it  all  along.  Why  didn't  you  take  my  advice  in  the 
beginning  ;  you  would,  if  he  hadn't  had  a  fever,  I  suppose, 
eh  ?  He  was  interesting,  wasn't  he  ?  Interesting  !  Bah  !  " 
And  Mr.  Grimwig  poked  the  fire  with  a  flourish. 

"  He  was  a  dear,  grateful,  gentle  child,  sir,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Bedwin,  indignantly.  "  I  know  what  children  are,  sir,  and 
have  done  these  forty  years  ;  and  people  who  can't  say  the 
same,  shouldn't  say  any  thing  about  them.  That's  my  opin- 
ion !  " 

This  was  a  hard  hit  at  Mr.  Grimwig,  who  was  a  bachelor. 
As  it  extorted  nothing  from  that  gentleman  but  a  smile,  the 
old  lady  tossed  her  head,  and  smoothed  down  her  apron 
preparatory  to  another  speech,  when  she  was  stopped  by  Mr. 
Brownlow. 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  feigning  an  anger  he 
was  far  from  feeling.  "  Never  let  me  hear  the  boy's  name 
again.  I  rang  to  tell  you  that.  Never.  Never,  on  any 
pretense,  mind.  You  may  leave  the  room,  Mrs.  Bedwin. 
Remember  !     I  am  in  earnest." 

There  were  sad  hearts  at  Mr.  Brownlow's  that  night. 

Oliver's  heart  sank  within  him,  when  he  thought  of  his 
good  kind  friends  ;  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  could  not 
know  what  they  had  heard,  or  it  might  have  broken  out- 
right. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  133 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW    OLIVER   PASSED   HIS    TIME   IN    THE   IMPROVING  SOCIETY 
OF    HIS   REPUTABLE    FRIENDS. 

About  noon  next  day,  when  the  Dodger  and  Master  Bates 
had  gone  out  to  pursue  their  customary  avocations,  Mr. 
Fagin  took  the  opportunity  of  reading  Oliver  a  long  lecture 
on  the  crying  sin  of  ingratitude  :  of  which  he  clearly  demon- 
strated he  had  been  guilty,  to  no  ordinary  extent,  in  willfully 
absenting  himself  from  the  society  of  his  anxious  friends  ; 
and,  still  more,  in  endeavoring  to  escape  from  them  after  so 
much  trouble  and  expense  had  been  incurred  in  his  recovery. 
Mr.  Fagin  laid  great  stress  on  the  fact  of  his  having  taken 
Oliver  in,  and  cherished  him,  when,  without  his  timely  aid, 
he  might  have  perished  with  hunger  ;  and  he  related  the 
dismal  and  affecting  history  of  a  young  lad  whom,  in  his 
philanthropy,  he  had  succored  under  parallel  circumstances, 
but  who,  proving  unworthy  of  his  confidence  and  evincing  a 
desire  to  communicate  with  the  police,  had  unfortunately 
come  to  be  hanged  at  the  Old  Bailey  one  morning.  Mr. 
Fagin  did  not  seek  to  conceal  his  share  in  the  catastrophe, 
but  lamented  with  tears  in  his  eyes  that  the  wrong-headed 
and  treacherous  behavior  of  the  young  person  in  question 
had  rendered  it  necessary  that  he  should  become  the  victim 
of  certain  evidence  for  the  crown  :  which,  if  it  were  not  pre- 
cisely true,  was  indispensably  necessary  for  the  safety  of  him 
(Mr.  Fagin)  and  a  few  select  friends.  Mr.  Fagin  concluded 
by  drawing  a  rather  disagreeable  picture  of  the  discomforts 
of  hanging  ;  and,  with  great  friendliness  and  politeness  of 
manner,  expressed  his  anxious  hopes  that  he  might  never  be 
obliged  to  submit  Oliver  Twist  to  that  unpleasant  operation. 

Little  Oliver's  blood  ran  cold,  as  he  listened  to  the  Jew's 
words,  and  imperfectly  comprehended  the  dark  threats  con- 
veyed in  them.  That  it  was  possible  even  for  justice  itself 
to  confound  the  innocent  with  the  guilty  when  they  were  in 
accidental  companionship,  he  knew  already  ;  and  that  deeply- 
laid  plans  for  the  destruction  of  inconveniently  knowing  or 
over-communicative  persons,  had  been  really  devised  and 
carried  out  by  the  old  Jew  on  more  occasions  than  one,  he 
thought  by  no  means  unlikely,  when  he  recollected  the  gen- 
eral nature  of  the  altercation  between  that  gentleman  and  Mr. 


134  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Sikes,  which  seemed  to  bear  reference  to  some  foregone  con 
spiracy  of  the  kind.     As  he  glanced  timidly  up,  and  met  the 
Jew's  searching  look,  he  felt  that  his  pale  face  and  trembling 
limbs  were  neither  unnoticed  nor  unrelished  by  that  wary  old 
gentleman. 

The  Jew,  smiling  hideously,  patted  Oliver  on  the  head, 
and  said,  that  if  he  kept  himself  quiet,  and  applied  himself 
to  business,  he  saw  they  would  be  very  good  friends 
yet. 

Then,  taking  his  hat,  and  covering  himself  with  an  old 
patched  great-coat,  he  went  out,  and  locked  the  room-door 
behind  him. 

And  so  Oliver  remained  all  that  day,  and  for  the  greater 
part  of  many  subsequent  days,  seeing  nobody  between  early 
morning  and  midnight,  and  left  during  the  long  hours  to  com- 
mune with  his  own  thoughts  ;  which,  never  failing  to  revert 
to  his  kind  friends,  and  the  opinion  they  must  long  ago  have 
formed  of  him,  were  sad  indeed. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  week  or  so,  the  Jew  left  the  room- 
door  unlocked  ;  and  he  was  at  liberty  to  wander  about  the 
house. 

It  was  a  very  dirty  place.  The  rooms  up  stairs  had  great 
high  wooden  chimney-pieces  and  large  doors,  with  paneled 
walls  and  cornices  to  the  ceilings  ;  which,  although  they 
were  black  with  neglect  and  dust,  were  ornamented  in 
various  ways.  From  all  of  these  tokens  Oliver  concluded 
that  a  long  time  ago,  before  the  old  Jew  was  born,  it  had  be- 
longed to  better  people,  and  had  perhaps  been  quite  gay  and 
handsome  :  dismal  and  dreary  as  it  looked  now. 

Spiders  had  built  their  webs  in  the  angles  of  the  walls  and 
ceilings  ;  and  sometimes,  when  Oliver  walked  softly  into  a 
room,  the  mice  would  scamper  across  the  floor  and  run  back 
terrified  to  their  holes.  With  these  exceptions,  there  was 
neither  sight  nor  sound  of  any  living  thing  ;  and  often,  when 
it  grew  dark,  and  he  was  tired  of  wandering  from  room  to 
room,  he  would  crouch  in  the  corner  of  the  passage  by  the 
street-door,  to  be  as  near  living  people  as  he  could  ;  and 
would  remain  there,  listening  and  counting  the  hours,  until 
the  Jew  or  the  boys  returned. 

In  all  the  rooms  the  moldering  shutters  were  fast  closed: 
the  bars  which  held  them  were  screwed  tight  into  the  wood; 
the  only  light  which  was  admitted  stealing  its  way  through 
round  holes  at  the  top  ;  which  made  the  rooms  more  gloomy, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  135 

and  filled  them  with  strange  shadows.  There  was  a  back- 
garret  window  with  rusty  bars  outside,  which  had  no  shutter  ; 
and  out  of  this  Oliver  often  gazed  with  a  melancholy  face 
for  hours  together  ;  but  nothing  was  to  be  descried  from  it 
but  a  confused  and  crowded  mass  of  house-tops,  blackened 
chimneys,  and  gable-ends.  Sometimes,  indeed,  a  grizzly 
head  might  be  seen  peering  over  the  parapet-wall  of  a  dis- 
tant house :  but  it  was  quickly  withdrawn  again ;  and 
as  the  window  of  Oliver's  observatory  was  nailed  down,  and 
dimmed  with  the  rain  and  smoke  of  years,  it  was  as 
much  as  he*could  do  to  make  out  the  forms  of  the  different 
objects  beyond,  without  making  any  attempt  to  be  seen  or 
heard — which  he  had  as  much  chance  of  being,  as  if  he  had 
lived  inside  the  ball  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 

One  afternoon,  the  Dodger  and  Master  Bates  being  en- 
gaged out  that  evening,  the  first-named  young  gentleman 
took  it  into  his  head  to  evince  some  anxiety  regarding  the 
decoration  of  his  person  (to  do  him  justice,  this  was  by  no 
means  an  habitual  weakness  with  him):  and,  with  this  end 
and  aim,  he  condescendingly  commanded  Oliver  to  assist 
him  in  his  toilet  straightway. 

Oliver  was  but  too  glad  to  make  himself  useful — too  happy 
to  have  some  faces,  however  bad,  to  look  upon — too  desirous 
to  conciliate  those  about  him  when  he  could  honestly  do  so 
— to  throw  any  objection  in  the  way  of  this  proposal.  So  he 
at  once  expressed  his  readiness  ;  and,  kneeling  on  the  floor, 
while  the  Dodger  sat  upon  the  table  so  that  he  could  take 
his  foot  in  his  lap,  he  applied  himself  to  a  process  which  Mr. 
Dawkins  designated  as  "japanning  his  trotter-cases."  The 
phrase,  rendered  into  plain  English,  signifieth,  cleaning  his 
boots. 

Whether  it  was  the  sense  of  freedom  and  independence 
which  a  rational  animal  may  be  supposed  to  feel  when  he  sits 
on  a  table  in  an  easy  attitude  smoking  a  pipe,  swinging  one 
/eg  carelessly  to  and  fro,  and  having  his  boots  cleaned  all  the 
time,  without  even  the  past  trouble  of  having  them  taken  off, 
vr  the  prospective  misery  of  putting  them  on,  to  disturb  his 
reflections  ;  or  whether  it  was  the  goodness  of  the  tobacco 
that  soothed  the  feelings  of  the  Dodger,  or  the  mildness  of 
the  beer  that  mollified  his  thoughts  ;  he  was  evidently  tinc- 
tured, for  the  nonce,  with  a  spice  of  romance  and  enthusiasm 
foreign  to  his  general  nature.  He  looked  down  on  Oliver, 
with  a  thoughtful  countenance,  for  a  brief  space  •  and  then, 


136  OLIVER  TWIST. 

raising  his  head,  and  heaving  a  gentle  sigh,  said,  half  in  ab- 
straction, and  half  to  Master  Bates  : 

"What  a  pity  it  is  he  isn't  a  prig  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Master  Charles  Bates,  "  he  don't  know  what's 
good  for  him." 

The  Dodger  sighed  again,  and  resumed  his  pipe,  as  did 
Charley  Bates.  They  both  smoked,  for  some  seconds,  in 
silence. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  even  know  what  a  prig  is  ?  "  said 
the  Dodger,  mournfully. 

"  I  think  I  know  that,"  replied  Oliver,  looking  up.  "  It's 
a  th — ;  you're  one,  are  you  not  ?"  inquired  Oliver,  checking 
himself. 

"  I  am,"  replied  the  Dodger.  "  I'd  scorn  to  be  any  thing 
else."  Mr.  Dawkins  gave  his  hat  a  ferocious  cock,  after  de- 
livering this  sentiment,  and  looked  at  Master  Bates,  as  if  to 
denote  that  he  would  feel  obliged  by  his  saying  any  thing  to 
the  contrary. 

"  I  am,"  repeated  the  Dodger.  "  So's  Charley.  So's  Fagin. 
So's  Sikes.  So's  Nancy.  i  So's  Bet.  So  we  all  are,  down  to 
the  dog.     And  he's  the  downiest  one  of  the  lot  !  " 

"And  the  least  given  to  peaching,"  added  Charley  Bates. 

"  He  wouldn't  so  much  as  bark  in  a  witness-box,  for  fear 
of  committing  himself  ;  no,  not  if  you  tied  him  up  in  one, 
and  left  him  there  without  wittles  for  a  fortnight,"  said  the 
Dodger. 

■:  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  observed  Charley. 

"  He's  a  rum  dog.  Don't  he  look  fierce  at  any  strange 
cove  that  laughs  or  sings  when  he's  in  company  !  "  pursued 
the  Dodger.  "  Won't  he  growl  at  all,  when  he  hears  a  fiddle 
playing  !  And  don't  he  hate  other  dogs  as  ain't  of  his  breed  ! 
Oh,  no  ! " 

"He's  an  out-and-out  Christian,"  said  Charley. 

This  was  merely  intended  as  a  tribute  to  the  animal's 
abilities,  but  it  was  an  appropriate  remark  in  another  sense,  if 
Master  Bates  had  only  known  it  ;  for  there  are  a  good  many 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  claiming  to  be  out-and-out  Christians, 
between  whom  and  Mr.  Sikes's  dog  there  exist  strong  and 
singular  points  of  resemblance. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Dodger  recurring  to  the  point  from 
which  they  had  strayed  ;  with  that  mindfulness  of  his  pro- 
fession which  influenced  all  his  proceedings.  "  This  hasn't 
got  any  thing  to  do  with  young  Green  here." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  137 

"  No  more  it  has,"  said  Charley.  "  Why  don't  you  put 
yourself  under  Fagin,  Oliver?" 

"  And  make  your  fortun'  out  of  hand  ? "  added  the  Dodger, 
with  a  grin. 

"  And  so  be  able  to  retire  on  your  property,  and  do  the 
gen-teel,  as  I  mean  to,  in  the  very  next  leap-year  but  four 
that  ever  comes,  and  the  forty-second  Tuesday  in  Trinity- 
week,"  said  Charles  Bates. 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  rejoined  Oliver,  timidly  ;  "  I  wish  they 
would  let  me  go.     I — I — would  rather  go." 

"  And  Fagin  would  rather  not  !  "  rejoined  Charley. 

Oliver  knew  this  too  well  ;  but  thinking  it  might  be  dan- 
gerous to  express  his  feelings  more  openly,  he  only  sighed, 
and  went  on  with  his  boot-cleaning. 

"  Go  !  "  exclaimed  the  Dodger.  "Why,  where's  your 
spirit  ?  Don't  you  take  any  pride  out  of  yourself  ?  Would 
you  go  and  be  dependent  on  your  friends  ?" 

"Oh,  blow  that!"  said  Master  Bates,  drawing  two  or 
three  silk  handkerchiefs  from  his  pocket,  and  tossing  them 
into  a  cupboard,  "  that's  too  mean,  that  is." 

"  /  couldn't  do  it,"  said  the  Dodger,  with  an  air  of  haughty 
disgust. 

"  You  can  leave  your  friends,  though,"  said  Oliver,  with  a 
half  smile  ;  "  and  let  them  be  punished  for  what  you  did." 

"  That,"  rejoined  the  Dodger,  with  a  wave  of  his  pipe — 
"  that  was  all  out  of  consideration  for  Fagin,  'cause  the  traps 
know  that  we  work  together,  and  he  might  have  got  into 
trouble  if  we  hadn't  made  our  lucky  ;  that  was  the  move, 
wasn't  it,  Charley  ?  " 

Master  Bates  nodded  assent,  and  would  have  spoken,  but 
the  recollection  of  Oliver's  flight  came  so  suddenly  upon  him, 
that  the  smoke  he  was  inhaling  got  entangled  with  a  laugh, 
and  went  up  into  his  head,  and  down  into  his  throat ;  and 
brought  on  a  fit  of  coughing  and  stamping,  about  five 
minutes  long. 

"  Look  here  !  "  said  the  Dodger,  drawing  forth  a  handful 
of  shillings  and  halfpence.  "  Here's  a  jolly  life  !  What's 
the  odds  where  it  comes  from  ?  Here,  catch  hold  ;  there's 
plenty  more  where  they  were  took  from.  You  won't,  won't 
you  ?  Oh,  you  precious  flat !  " 

"  It's  naughty,  ain't  it,  Oliver  ?  "  inquired  Charley  Bates. 
"  He'll  come  to  be  scragged,  won't  he  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  means,"  replied  Oliver. 


138  OLIVER  TWIST, 

i  Something  in  this  way,  old  feller,"  said  Charley.  As  he 
said  it,  Master  Bates  caught  up  an  end  of  his  neckerchief, 
and,  holding  it  erect  in  the  air,  dropped  his  head  on  his 
shoulder,  and  jerked  a  curious  sound  through  his  teeth  ; 
thereby  indicating,  by  a  lively  pantomimic  representation, 
that  scragging  and  hanging  were  one  and  the  same  thing. 

"  That's  what  it  means,"  said  Charley.  "  Look  how  he 
stares,  Jack  !  I  never  did  see  such  prime  company  as  that 
ere  boy  ;  he'll  be  the  death  of  me,  I  know  he  will."  Master 
Charles  Bates,  having  laughed  heartily  again,  resumed  his 
pipe  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"You've  been  brought  up  bad,"  said  the  Dodger,  survey- 
ing his  boots  with  much  satisfaction  when  Oliver  had  polish- 
ed them.  "  Fagin  will  make  something  of  you,  though,  or 
you'll  be  the  first  he  ever  had  that  turned  out  unprofitable. 
You'd  better  begin  at  once  ;  for  you'll  come  to  the  trade 
long  before  you  think  of  it ;  and  you're  only  losing  time, 
Oliver." 

Master  Bates  backed  this  advice  with  sundry  moral  ad- 
monitions of  his  own,  which,  being  exhausted,  he  and  his 
friend  Mr.  Dawkins  launched  into  a  glowing  description  of 
the  numerous  pleasures  incidental  to  the  life  they  led,  inter- 
spersed with  a  variety  of  hints  to  Oliver  that  the  best  thing 
he  could  do  would  be  to  secure  Fagin's  favor  without  more 
delay,  by  the  means  which  they  themselves  had  employed  to 
gain  it. 

"And  always  put  this  in  your  pipe,  Nolly,"  said  the 
Dodger,  as  the  Jew  was  heard  unlocking  the  door  above, 
■'  if  you  don't  take  fogies  and  tickers — " 

"  What's  the  good  of  talking  in  that  way  ? "  interposed 
Master  Bates,  "  he  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"If  you  don't  take  pocket-handkechers  and  watches," 
said  the  Dodger,  reducing  his  conversation  to  the  level  of 
Oliver's  capacity,  "  some  other  cove  will  ;  so  that  the  coves 
that  lose  'em  will  be  all  the  worse,  and  you'll  be  all  the 
worse,  too,  and  nobody  half  a  ha'p'orth  the  better,  except 
the  chaps  wot  gets  them — and  you've  just  as  good  a  right  to 
them  as  they  have." 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure  !  "  said  the  Jew,  who  had  entered, 
unseen  by  Oliver.  "  It  all  lies  in  a  nutshell,  my  dear — in  a 
nutshell,  take  the  Dodger's  word  for  it.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  He 
understands  the  catechism  of  his  trade." 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  hands  gleefully  together,  as  he 


OLIVER  TWIST 


*39 


corroborated  the  Dodger's  reasoning  in  these  terms,  and 
chuckled  with  delight  at  his  pupil's  proficiency. 

The  conversation  proceeded  no  further  at  this  time,  for 
the  Jew  had  returned  home  accompanied  by  Miss  Betsy, 
and  a  gentleman  whom  Oliver  had  never  seen  before,  but 
who  was  accosted  by  the  Dodger  as  Tom  Chitling,  and  who 
having  lingered  on  the  stairs  to  exchange  a  few  gallantries 
with  the  lady,  now  made  his  appearance. 

Mr.  Chitling  was  older  in  years  than  the  Dodger,  having 
perhaps  numbered  eighteen  winters,  but  there  was  a  degree 
of  deference  in  his  deportment  toward  that  young  gentle- 
man  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  felt  himself  conscious 
of  a  slight  inferiority  in  point  of  genius  and  professional 
acquirements.  He  had  small  twinkling  eyes,  and  a  pock- 
marked face  *  wore  a  fur  cap,  a  dark  corduroy  jacket,  greasy 
fustian  trowsers,  and  an  apron.  His  wardrobe  was,  in  truth, 
rather  out  of  repair,  but  he  excused  himself  to  the  company 
by  stating  that  his  "  time  "  was  only  out  an  hour  before,  and 
that,  in  consequence  of  having  worn  the  regimentals  for  six 
weeks  past,  he  had  not  been  able  to  bestow  any  attention  on 
his  private  clothes.  Mr.  Chitling  added,  with  strong  marks 
of  irritation,  that  the  new  way  of  fumigating  clothes  up  yon- 
der was  infernal  unconstitutional,  for  it  burned  holes  in 
them,  and  there  was  no  remedy  against  the  county.  The 
same  remark  he  considered  to  apply  to  the  regulation  mode 
of  cutting  the  hair,  which  he  held  to  be  decidedly  unlawful. 
Mr.  Chitling  wound  up  his  observations  by  stating  that  he 
had  not  touched  a  drop  of  any  thing  for  forty-two  mortal 
long  hard-working  days,  and  that  he  '*  wished  he  might  be 
busted  if  he  warn't  as  dry  as  a  lime-basket." 

"  Where  do  you  think  the  gentleman  has  come  from, 
Oliver  ? "  inquired  the  Jew,  with  a  grin,  as  the  other  boys 
put  a  bottle  of  spirits  on  the  table. 

"  I — I — don't  know,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"Who's  that?"  inquired  Tom  Chitling,  casting  a  con- 
temptuous look  at  Oliver. 

"A  young  friend  of  mine,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
Jew. 

"  He's  in  luck,  then,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  mean- 
ing look  at  Fagin.  "Never  mind  where  I  came  from,  young 
'un  ;  you'll  find  your  way  there  soon  enough,  I'll  bet 
a  crown  !  " 

At  this  sally  the  boys  laughed.     After  some  more  jokes 


i4o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

on  the  same  subject,  they  exchanged  a  few  short  whispers 
with  Fagin,  and  withdrew. 

After  some  words  apart  between  the  last  comer  and  Fagin, 
they  drew  their  chairs  toward  the  fire  ;  and  the  Jew,  telling 
Oliver  to  come  and  sit  by  him,  led  the  conversation  to  the 
topics  most  calculated  to  interest  his  hearers.  These  were, 
the  great  advantages  of  the  trade,  the  proficiency  of  the 
Dodger,  the  amiability  of  Charley  Bates,  and  the  liberality 
of  the  Jew  himself.  At  length  these  subjects  displayed 
signs  of  being  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  Mr.  Chitling  did 
the  same,  for  the  house  of  correction  becomes  fatiguing 
after  a  week  or  two.  Miss  Betsy  accordingly  withdrew,  and 
left  the  party  to  their  repose. 

From  this  day,  Oliver  was  seldom  left  alone,  but  was 
placed  in  almost  constant  communication  with  the  two  boys, 
who  played  the  old  game  with  the  Jew  every  day  ;  whether 
for  their  own  improvement  or  Oliver's,  Mr.  Fagin  best 
knew.  At  other  times  the  old  man  would  tell  them  stories 
of  robberies  he  had  committed  in  his  younger  days  ;  mixed 
up  with  so  much  that  was  droll  and  curious,  that  Oliver 
could  not  help  laughing  heartily,  and  showing  that  he  was 
amused,  in  spite  of  all  his  better  feelings. 

In  short,  the  wily  old  Jew  had  the  boy  in  his  toils.  Hav- 
ing prepared  his  mind,  by  solitude  and  gloom,  to  prefer  any 
society  to  the  companionship  of  his  own  sad  thoughts  in 
such  a  dreary  place,  he  was  now  slowly  instilling  into  his 
soul  the  poison  which  he  hoped  would  blacken  it,  and 
change  its  hue  forever. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN    WHICH    A     NOTABLE     PLAN    IS    DISCUSSED     AND     DETER- 
MINED   ON. 

It  was  a  chill,  damp,  windy  night,  when  the  Jew,  button- 
ing his  great-coat  tight  round  his  shriveled  body,  and  pull- 
ing the  collar  up  over  his  ears  so  as  completely  to  obscure 
the  lower  part  of  his  face,  emerged  from  his  den.  He 
paused  on  the  step  as  4he  door  was  locked  and  chained 
behind  him  ;  and  having  listened  while  the  boys  made  all 
secure,  and  until  their  retreating  footsteps  were  no  longei 
audible,  slunk  down  the  street  as  quickly  as  he  could. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  141 

The  house  to  which  Oliver  had  been  conveyed  was  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Whitechapel.  The  Jew  stopped  for  an 
instant  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  and,  glancing  suspiciously 
round,  crossed  the  road,  and  struck  off  in  the  direction  of 
Spitalfields. 

The  mud  lay  thick  upon  the  stones,  and  a  black  mist 
hung  over  the  streets  ;  the  rain  fell  sluggishly  down,  and 
every  thing  felt  cold  and  clammy  to  the  touch.  It  seemed 
just  the  night  when  it  befitted  such  a  being  as  the  Jew  to  be 
abroad.  As  he  glided  stealthily  along,  creeping  beneath  the 
shelter  of  the  walls  and  door-ways,  the  hideous  old  man 
seemed  like  some  loathsome  reptile,  engendered  in  the  slime 
and  darkness  through  which  he  moved  ;  crawling  forth  by 
night,  in. search  of  some  rich  offal  for  a  meal. 

He  kept  on  his  course,  through  many  winding  and  nar- 
row ways,  until  he  reached  Bethnal  Green  ;  then,  turning 
suddenly  off  to  the  left,  he  soon  became  involved  in  a  maze 
of  the  mean  and  dirty  streets  which  abound  in  that  close 
and  densely-populated  quarter. 

The  Jew  was  evidently  too  familiar  with  the  ground  he 
traversed  to  be  at  all  bewildered,  either  by  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  or  the  intricacies  of  the  way.  He  hurried 
through  several  alleys  and  streets,  and  at  length  turned  into 
one,  lighted  only  by  a  single  lamp  at  the  further  end.  At 
the  door  of  a  house  in  this  street  he  knocked  ;  having  ex- 
changed a  few  muttered  words  with  the  person  who  opened 
it,  he  walked  up  stairs. 

A  dog  growled  as  he  touched  the  handle  of  a  room-door  ; 
and  a  man's  voice  demanded  who  was  there. 

"  Only  me,  Bill ;  only  me,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  look- 
ing in. 

-  Bring  in  your  body,  then,"  said  Sikes.  "  Lie  down,  you 
stupid  brute  !  Don't  you  know  the  devil  when  he's  got  a 
great-coat  on  ?  " 

Apparently,  the  dog  had  been  somewhat  deceived  by  Mr. 
Fagin's  outer  garment,  for  as  the  Jew  unbuttoned  it,  and 
threw  it  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  he  retired  to  the  corner 
from  which  he  had  risen,  wagging  his  tail  as  he  went,  to 
show  that  he  was  as  well  satisfied  as  it  was  in  his  nature 
to  be. 

"  Well !  "  said  Sikes. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew.     "  Ah  !  Nancy." 

The  latter  recognition  was  uttered  with  just  enough  of 


i42  OLIVER  TWIST. 

embarrassment  to  imply  a  doubt  of  its  reception,  for  Mr, 
Fagin  and  his  young  friend  had  not  met  since  she  had  in- 
terfered in  behalf  of  Oliver.  All  doubts  upon  the  subject, 
if  he  had  any,  were  speedily  removed  by  the  young  lady's 
behavior.  She  took  her  feet  off  the  fender,  pushed  back 
her  chair,  and  bade  Fagin  draw  up  his,  without  saying  more 
about  it  :   for  it  was  a  cold  night,  and  no  mistake. 

"  It  is  cold,  Nancy  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  as  he  warmed  his 
skinny  hands  over  the  fire.  "  It  seems  to  go  right  through 
one,"  added  the  old  man,  touching  his  side. 

"  It  must  be  a  piercer,  if  it  finds  its  way  through  your 
heart,"  said  Mr.  Sikes.  "  Give  him  something  to  drink, 
Nancy.  Burn  my  body,  make  haste  !  It's  enough  to  turn 
a  man  ill,  to  see  his  lean  old  carcass  shivering  in  that  way, 
like  a  ugly  ghost  just  rose  from  the  grave." 

Nancy  quickly  brought  a  bottle  from  a  cupboard,  in  which 
there  were  many,  which,  to  judge  from  the  diversity  of  their 
appearance,  were  filled  with  several  kinds  of  liquids.  Sikes, 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  brandy,  bade  the  Jew  drink  it  off. 

"  Quite  enough,  quite,  thank  ye,  Bill,"  replied  the  Jew, 
putting  down  the  glass  after  just  setting  his  lips  to  it. 

"  What !  You're  afraid  of  our  getting  the  better  of  you, 
are  you  ? "  inquired  Sikes,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  Jew. 
"Ugh!" 

With  a  hoarse  grunt  of  contempt,  Mr.  Sikes  seized  the 
glass,  and  threw  the  remainder  of  its  contents  into  the  ashes, 
as  a  preparatory  ceremony  to  filling  it  again  for  himself, 
which  he  did  at  once. 

The  Jew  glanced  round  the  room  as  his  companion  tossed 
down  the  second  glassful,  not  in  curiosity,  for  he  had  seen 
it  before,  but  in  a  restless  and  suspicious  manner  habitual 
to  him.  It  was  a  meanly  furnished  apartment,  with  nothing 
but  the  contents  of  the  closet  to  induce  the  belief  that  its 
occupier  was  any  thing  but  a  working-man  ;  and  with  no 
more  suspicious  articles  displayed  to  view  than  two  or  three 
heavy  bludgeons  which  stood  in  a  corner,  and  a  "  life-pre- 
server "  that  hung  over  the  chimney-piece. 

"  There,"  said  Sikes,  smacking  his  lips.    "  Now  I'm  ready." 

"  For  business  ?  "  inquired  the  Jew. 

"For  business,"  replied  Sikes  ;  "  so  say  what  you've  got 
to  say." 

"  About  the  crib  at  Chertsey,  Bill  ? "  said  the  Jew,  draw- 
ing his  chair  forward,  and  speaking  in  a  very  low  voice. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  141 

The  house  to  which  Oliver  had  been  conveyed  was  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Whitechapel.  The  Jew  stopped  for  an 
instant  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  and,  glancing  suspiciously 
round,  crossed  the  road,  and  struck  off  in  the  direction  of 
Spitalfields. 

The  mud  lay  thick  upon  the  stones,  and  a  black  mist 
hung  over  the  streets  ;  the  rain  fell  sluggishly  down,  and 
every  thing  felt  cold  and  clammy  to  the  touch.  It  seemed 
just  the  night  when  it  befitted  such  a  being  as  the  Jew  to  be 
abroad.  As  he  glided  stealthily  along,  creeping  beneath  the 
shelter  of  the  walls  and  door-ways,  the  hideous  old  man 
seemed  like  some  loathsome  reptile,  engendered  in  the  slime 
and  darkness  through  which  he  moved  ;  crawling  forth  by 
night,  in. search  of  some  rich  offal  for  a  meal. 

He  kept  on  his  course,  through  many  winding  and  nar- 
row ways,  until  he  reached  Bethnal  Green  ;  then,  turning 
suddenly  off  to  the  left,  he  soon  became  involved  in  a  maze 
of  the  mean  and  dirty  streets  which  abound  in  that  close 
and  densely-populated  quarter. 

The  Jew  was  evidently  too  familiar  with  the  ground  he 
traversed  to  be  at  all  bewildered,  either  by  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  or  the  intricacies  of  the  way.  He  hurried 
through  several  alleys  and  streets,  and  at  length  turned  into 
one,  lighted  only  by  a  single  lamp  at  the  further  end.  At 
the  door  of  a  house  in  this  street  he  knocked  ;  having  ex- 
changed a  few  muttered  words  with  the  person  who  opened 
it,  he  walked  up  stairs. 

A  dog  growled  as  he  touched  the  handle  of  a  room-door  ; 
and  a  man's  voice  demanded  who  was  there. 

"Only  me,  Bill ;  only  me,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew,  look- 
ing in. 

-  "  Bring  in  your  body,  then,"  said  Sikes.  "  Lie  down,  you 
stupid  brute  !  Don't  you  know  the  devil  when  he's  got  a 
great-coat  on  ?  " 

Apparently,  the  dog  had  been  somewhat  deceived  by  Mr. 
Fagin's  outer  garment,  for  as  the  Jew  unbuttoned  it,  -and 
threw  it  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  he  retired  to  the  corner 
from  which  he  had  risen,  wagging  his  tail  as  he  went,  to 
show  that  he  was  as  well  satisfied  as  it  was  in  his  nature 
to  be. 

"  Well !  "  said  Sikes. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew.     "  Ah  !  Nancy." 

The  latter  recognition  was  uttered  with  just  enough  of 


144  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  He  says  he's  worn  sham  whiskers,  and  a  canary  waistcoat, 
the  whole  blessed  time  he's  been  loitering  down  there,  and 
it's  all  of  no  use." 

"  He  should  have  tried  mustaches  and  a  pair  of  military 
trowsers,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew. 

"So  he  did,"  rejoined  Sikes,  "and  they  warn't  of  no  more 
use  than  the  other  plant." 

The  Jew  looked  blank  at  this  information.  After  rumin- 
ating for  some  minutes  with  his  chin  sunk  on  his  breast,  he 
raised  his  head  and  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  that  if  flash  Toby 
Crackit  reported  aright,  he  feared  the  game  was  up. 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  olol  man,  dropping  his  hands  on  his 
knees,  "  it's  a  sad  thing,  my  dear,  to  lose  so  much  when  we 
had  set  our  hearts  upon  it." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Sikes.     "  Worse  luck  !  " 

A  long  silence  ensued;  during  which  the  Jew  was  plunged 
in  deep  thought,  with  his  face  wrinkled  into  an  expression 
of  villainy  perfectly  demoniacal.  Sikes  eyed  him  furtively 
from  time  to  time.  Nancy,  apparently  fearful  of  irritating 
the  house-breaker,  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire,  as  if 
she  had  been  deaf  to  all  that  passed. 

"  Fagin,"  said  Sikes,  abruptly  breaking  the  stillness  that 
prevailed  ;  "  is  it  worth  fifty  shiners  extra,  if  it's  safely  done 
from  the  outside  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Jew,  as  suddenly  rousing  himself. 

"  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  "  inquired  Sikes. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  yes,"  rejoined  the  Jew  ;  his  eyes  glisten- 
ing, and  every  muscle  in  his  face  working  with  the  excite- 
ment that  the  inquiry  had  awakened. 

"  Then,"  said  Sikes,  thrusting  aside  the  Jew's  hand,  with 
some  disdain,  "  let  it  come  off  as  soon  as  you  like.  Toby 
and  me  were  over  the  garden-wall  the  night  afore  last, 
sounding  the  panels  of  the  door  and  shutters.  The  crib's 
barred  up  at  night  like  a  jail;  but  there's  one  part  we  can 
crack  safe  and  softly." 

"  Which  is  that,  Bill  ? "  asked  the  Jew,  eagerly. 

"  Why,"  whispered  Sikes,  "  as  you  cross  the  lawn — " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Jew,  bending  his  head  forward,  with  his 
eyes  almost  starting  out  of  it. 

"  Umph  !  "  cried  Sikes,  stopping  short,  as  the  girl, 
scarcely  moving  her  head,  looked  suddenly  round,  and 
pointed  for  an  instant  to  the  Jew's  face.  "  Never  mind 
which  part  it  is.     You  can't  do  it  without  me,  I  know  ;  but 


OLIVER  TWIST.  145 

it's  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side  when  one  deals  with 
you." 

"As  you  like,  my  dear,  as  you  like,"  replied  the  Jew.  "Is 
there  no  help  wanted  but  yours  and  Toby's  ? " 

"  None,"  said  Sikes.  "  'Cept  a  center-bit  and  a  boy.  The 
first  we've  both  got ;  the  second  you  must  find  us." 

"  A  boy  !  "  exclaimed  the  Jew.  "  Oh  !  then  it's  a  panel, 
eh?" 

"  Never  mind  wot  it  is  !  "  replied  Sikes.  "  I  want  a  boy, 
and  he  musn't  be  a  big  'un.  Lord  !  "  said  Mr.  Sikes,  re- 
flectively, "  if  I'd  only  got  that  young  boy  of  Ned,  the 
chimbley-sweeper's  !  He  kept  him  small  on  purpose,  and 
let  him  out  by  the  job.  But  the  father  gets  lagged  ;  and 
then  the  Juvenile  Delinquent  Society  comes  and  takes  the 
boy  away  from  a  trade  where  he  was  arning  money,  teaches 
him  to  read  and  write,  and  in  time  makes  a  'prentice  of  him. 
And  so  they  go  on,"  said  Mr.  Sikes,  his  wrath  rising  with 
the  recollection  of  his  wrongs,  "  so  they  go  on  ;  and,  if 
they'd  got  money  enough  (which  it's  a  Providence  they 
haven't),  we  shouldn't  have  half  a  dozen  boys  left  in  the 
whole  trade,  in  a  year  or  two." 

"  No  more  we  should,"  acquiesced  the  Jew,  who  had  been 
considering  during  this  speech,  and  had  only  caught  the  last 
sentence.     "  Bill  !  " 

"  What  now  ? "  inquired  Sikes. 

The  Jew  nodded  his  head  toward  Nancy,  who  was  still 
gazing  at  the  fire  ;  and  intimated  by  a  sign  that  he  would 
have  told  her  to  leave  the  room.  Sikes  shrugged  his 
shoulders  impatiently,  as  if  he  thought  the  precaution  un- 
necessary ;  but  complied,  nevertheless,  by  requesting  Miss 
Nancy  to  fetch  him  a  jug  of  beer. 

"  You  don't  want  any  beer,"  said  Nancy,  folding  her  arms, 
and  retaining  her  seat  very  composedly. 

"  I  tell  you  I  do,"  replied  Sikes. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  rejoined  the  girl,  coolly.  J<  Go  on,  Fagin. 
I  know  what  he's  going  to  say,  Bill  ;  he  needn't  mind 
p-ie." 

The  Jew  still  hesitated.  Sikes  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  some  surprise. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mind  the  old  girl,  do  you,  Fagin  ?  "  he 
asked  at  length.  "  You've  known  her  long  enough  to  trust 
her,  or  the  Devil's  in  it.  She  ain't  one  to  blab.  Are  your 
Nancy  ? " 


/4&  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  1  should  think  not  ! "  replied  the  young  lady  :  drawing 
her  chair  up  to  the  table,  and  putting  her  elbows  upon 
it. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear,  I  know  you're  not,"  said  the  Jew  : 
"  but — "  and  again  the  old  man  paused. 

"  But  wot  ?  "  inquired  Sikes. 

"  I  didn't  know  whether  she  mightn't  p'r'aps  be  out  of 
sorts,  you  know,  my  dear,  as  she  was  the  other  night,"  re- 
plied the  Jew. 

At  this  confession  Miss  Nancy  burst  into  a  loud  laugh ; 
And,  swallowing  a  glass  of  brandy,  shook  her  head  with  an 
air  of  defiance,  and  burst  into  sundry  exclamations  of  "  Keep 
the  game  a-going  !  "  "  Never  say  die  !  "  and  the  like.  These 
seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  reassuring  both  gentlemen  ;  for 
the  Jew  nodded  his  head  with  a  satisfied  air,  and  resumed 
his  seat  :  as  did  Mr.  Sikes  likewise. 

"  Now,  Fagin,"  said  Nancy,  with  a  laugh,  "  tell  Bill  at 
once  about  Oliver  !  " 

"  Ha  !  you're  a  clever  one,  my  dear  ;  the  sharpest  girl  I 
ever  saw  !  "  said  the  Jew,  patting  her  on  the  neck.  "  It  was 
about  Oliver  I  was  going  to  speak,  sure  enough.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  !  " 

"  What  about  him  ?  "  demanded  Sikes. 

*'  He's  the  boy  for  you,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew,  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  laying  his  finger  on  the  side  of  his  nose,  and 
grinning  frightfully. 

"  He  !  "  exclaimed  Sikes. 

"  Have  him,  Bill,"  said  Nancy.  "  I  would,  if  I  was  in 
your  place.  He  mayn't  be  so  much  up  as  any  of  the 
others  ;  but  that's  not  what  you  want,  if  he's  only  to  open  a 
door  for  you.  Depend  upon  it  he's  a  safe  one,  Bill." 
i  "  I  know  he  is,"  rejoined  Fagin.  "  He's  been  in  good 
training  these  last  few  weeks,  and  it's  time  he  began  to  work 
for  his  bread.     Besides,  the  others  are  all  too  big." 

"  Well,  he  is  just  the  size  I  want,"  said  Mr.  Sikes, 
ruminating. 

"  And  will  do  every  thing  you  want,  Bill,  my  dear,"  inter- 
posed the  Jew  ;  "  he  can't  help  himself.  That  is,  if  you 
frighten  him  enough." 

■  Frighten  him  ! "  echoed  Sikes.  "  It'll  be  no  sham 
frightening,  mind  you.  If  there's  any  thing  queer  about 
him  when  we  once  get  into  the  work  ;  in  for  a  penny,  in  for 
a  pound.     You  won't  see  him  alive  again,  Fagin.     Think  of 


OLIVER  TWIST.  I4> 

that  before  you  send  him.  Mark  my  words  !  "  aaid  the  rob- 
ber, poising  a  crowbar,  which  he  had  drawn  from  under  the 
bedstead. 

4<  I've  thought  of  it  all,"  said  the  Jew,  with  energy.  "  I've 
— I've  had  my  eye  upon  him,  my  dears,  close — close.  Once 
let  him  feel  that  he  is  one  of  us — once  fill  his  mind  with  the 
idea  that  he  has  been  a  thief — and  he's  ours  !  Ours  for  his 
life.  Oho  !  It  couldn't  have  come  about  better  !  "  The 
old  man  crossed  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  and,  drawing  his 
head  and  shoulders  into  a  heap,  literally  hugged  himself  for 

Joy' 

Ours  !  "  said  Sikes.        Yours,  you  mean." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,  my  dear,"  said  the  Jew  with  a  shrill 
chuckle.     "Mine,  if  you  like,  Bill." 

"  And  wot,"  said  Sikes,  scowling  fiercely  on  his  agreeable 
friend,  "  what  makes  you  take  so  much  pains  about  one 
chalk-faced  kid,  when  you  know  there  are  fifty  boys  snooz- 
ing about  Common  Garden  every  night,  as  you  might  pick 
and  choose  from  ?  " 

"  Because  they're  of  no  use  to  me,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
Jew,  with  some  confusion,  "  not  worth  the  taking.  Their 
looks  convict  'em  when  they  get  into  trouble,  and  I  lose  'em 
all.  With  this  boy,  properly  managed,  my'dears,  I  could  do 
what  I  couldn't  with  twenty  of  them.  Besides,"  said  the 
Jew,  recovering  his  self-possession,  "  he  has  us  now  if  he 
could  only  give  us  leg-bail  again  ;  and  he  must  be  in  the 
same  boat  with  us.  Never  mind  how  he  came  there  ;  it's 
quite  enough  for  my  power  over  him  that  he  was  in  a  rob- 
bery ;  that's  all  I  want.  Now,  how  much  better  this  is  than 
being  obliged  to  put  the  poor  leetle  boy  out  of  the  way — 
which  would  be  dangerous,  and  we  should  lose  by  it 
besides." 

"  When  is  it  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Nancy,  stopping  some 
turbulent  exclamation  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Sikes,  expressive 
of  the  disgust  with  which  he  received  Fagin's  affectation  of 
humanity. 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  Jew  ;  "when  is  it  to  be  done, 
Bill?" 

"  I  planned  with  Toby,  the  night  arter  to-morrow,"  re- 
joined Sikes  in  a  surly  voice,  "  if  he  heerd  nothing  from  me 
to  the  contrairy." 

"  Good,"  said  the  Jew  ;  "  there's  no  moon." 

"No,"  rejoined  Sikes. 


i48  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  It's  all  arranged  about  bringing  off  the  swag,  is  it  ? " 
asked  the  Jew. 

Sikes  nodded. 

"And  about—" 

"Oh,  ah,  it's  all  planned,"  rejoined  Sikes,  interrupting 
him.  "  Never  mind  particulars.  You'd  better  bring  the 
boy  here  to-morrow  night.  I  shall  get  off  the  stones  an  hour 
arter  daybreak.  Then  you  hold  your  tongue,  and  keep  the 
melting-pot  ready,  and  that's  all  you'll  have  to  do." 

After  some  discussion,  in  which  all  three  took  an  active 
part,  it  was  decided  that  Nancy  should  repair  to  the  Jew's 
next  evening  when  the  night  had  set  in,  and  bring  Oliver 
away  with  her  ;  Fagin  craftily  observing  that,  if  he  evinced 
any  disinclination  to  the  task,  he  would  be  more  willing  to 
accompany  the  girl  who  had  so  recently  interfered  in  his 
behalf,  than  any  body  else.  It  was  also  solemnly  arranged 
that  poor  Oliver  should,  for  the  purposes  of  the  contemplated 
expedition,  be  unreservedly  consigned  to  the  care  and  cus- 
tody of  Mr.  William  Sikes  ;  and  further,  that  the  said  Sikes 
should  deal  with  him  as  he  thought  fit  ;  and  should  not  be 
held  responsible  by  the  Jew  for  any  mischance  or  evil  that 
might  befall  him,  or  any  punishment  with  which  it  might  be 
necessary  to  visit  him  ;  it  being  understood  that,  to  render 
the  compact  in  this  respect  binding,  any  representations 
made  by  Mr.  Sikes  on  his  return  should  be  required  to  be 
confirmed  and  corroborated,  in  all  important  particulars,  by 
the  testimony  of  flash  Toby  Crackit. 

These  preliminaries  adjusted,  Mr.  Sikes  proceeded  to 
drink  brandy  at  a  furious  rate,  and  to  flourish  the  crowbar 
in  an  alarming  manner  ;  yelling  forth,  at  the  same  time,  most 
unmusical  snatches  of  song,  mingled  with  wild  execrations. 
At  length,  in  a  fit  of  professional  enthusiasm,  he  insisted 
upon  producing  his  box  of  house-breaking  tools  ;  which  he 
had  no  sooner  stumbled  in  with,  and  opened  for  the  pur- 
pose of  explaining  whe  nature  and  properties  of  the  various 
implements  it  contained,  and  the  peculiar  beauties  of  their 
construction,  than  he  fell  over  the  box  upon  the  floor,  and 
went  to  sleep  where  he  fell. 

"  Good-night,  Nancy,"  said  the  Jew,  muffling  himself  up 
as  before. 

"Good-night." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  the  Jew  scrutinized  her  narrowly. 
There  was  no  flinching  about  the  girl.     She  was  as  true 


OLIVER  TWIST.  149 

and  earnest  in  the  matter  as  Toby  Crackit  himself  could 
be. 

The  Jew  again  bade  her  good-night,  and,  bestowing  a  sly 
kick  upon  the  prostrate  form  of  Mr.  Sikes  while  her  back 
was  turned,  groped  down  stairs. 

"  Always  the  way,"  muttered  the  Jew  to  himself  as  he 
turned  homeward.  "  The  worst  of  these  women  is,  that  a 
very  little  thing  serves  to  call  up  some  long-forgotten  feel- 
ing ;  and  the  best  of  them  is,  that  it  never  lasts.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
The  man  against  the  child,  for  a  bag  of  gold  !  " 

Beguiling  the  time  with  these  pleasant  reflections,  Mr. 
Fn,gin  wended  his  way,  through  mud  and  mire,  to  his  gloomy 
abode  ;  where  the  Dodger  was  sitting  up,  impatiently  await- 
ing his  return. 

"Is  Oliver  abed?  I  want  to  speak  to  him,"  was  his  first 
remark  ac  they  descended  the  stairs. 

"  Hours  ago,"  replied  the  Dodger,  throwing  open  a  door. 
"Here  lie  is." 

The  boy  was  lying,  fast  asleep,  on  a  rude  bed  upon  the 
floor  ;  so  pale  with  anxiety  and  sadness,  and  the  closeness 
of  his  prison,  that  he  looked  like  death  ;  not  death  as  it 
shows  in  shroud  and  coffin,  but  in  the  guise  it  wears  when 
life  has  just  departed  ;  when  a  young  and  gentle  spirit  has, 
but  an  instant,  fled  to  heaven,  and  the  gross  air  of  the  world 
has  not  had  time  to  breathe  upon  the  changing  dust  it  hal- 
lowed. 

"  Not  now,"  said  the  Jew,  turning  softly  away.  "  To- 
morrow.    To-morrow.' 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHEREIN    OLIVER     IS    DELIVERED     OVER     TO     MR.     WILLIAM 

SIKES. 

When  Oliver  awoke  in  the  morning,  he  was  a  good  deal 
surprised  to  find  that  a  new  pair  of  shoes,  with  strong  thick 
soles,  had  been  placed  at  his  bedside,  and  that  his  old  shoes 
had  been  removed.  At  first  he  was  pleased  with  the  dis- 
covery, hoping  it  might  be  the  forerunner  of  his  release  ; 
but  such  thoughts  were  quickly  dispelled,  on  his  sitting  down 
to  breakfast  along  with  the  Jew,  who  told  him,  in  a  tone  and 


150  OLIVER  TWIST. 

manner  which  increased  his  alarm,  that  he  was  to  be  taken 
to  the  residence  of  Bill  Sikes  that  night. 

"  To — to — stop  there,  sir?"  asked  Oliver,  anxiously. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear.  Not  to  stop  there,"  replied  the  Jew. 
"  We  shouldn't  like  to  lose  you.  Don't  be  afraid,  Oliver, 
you  shall  come  back  to  us  again.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  We  won't 
be  so  cruel  as  to  send  you  away,  my  dear.     Oh  no,  no  !  "  - 

The  old  man,  who  was  stooping  over  the  fire  toasting  a 
piece  of  bread,  looked  round  as  he  bantered  Oliver  thus  ; 
and  chuckled  as  if  to  show  that  he  knew  he  would  still  be 
very  glad  to  get  away  if  he  could. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  Jew,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Oliver, 
"  you  want  to  know  what  you're  going  to  Bill's  for — eh,  my 
dear  ?  " 

Oliver  colored  involuntarily,  to  find  that  the  old  thief  had 
been  reading  his  thoughts  ;  but  boldly  said,  yes,  he  did  want 
to  know. 

"  Why,  do  you  think?"  inquired  Fagin,  parrying  the 
question. 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  the  Jew,  turning  away  with  a  disappointed 
countenance  from  a  close  perusal  of  the  boy's  face.  "  Wait 
till  Bill  tells  you,  then." 

The  Jew  seemed  much  vexed  by  Oliver's  not  expressing 
any  greater  curiosity  on  the  subject  ;  but  the  truth  is,  that 
although  Oliver  felt  very  anxious,  he  was  too  much  confused 
by  the  earnest  cunning  of  Fagin's  looks,  and  his  own  specu- 
lations, to  make  any  further  inquiries  just  then.  He  had  no 
other  opportunity,  for  the  Jew  remained  very  surly  and 
silent  till  night ;  when  he  prepared  to  go  abroad. 

"  You  may  burn  a  candle,"  said  the  Jew,  putting  one  upon 
the  table.  "  And  here's  a  book  for  you  to  read,  till  they 
come  to  fetch  you.     Good-night  ! " 

"  Good-night  !  "  replied  Oliver,  softly. 

The  Jew  walked  to  the  door,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  boy  as  he  went.  Suddenly  stopping,  he  called  him  by 
his  name. 

Oliver  looked  up  ;  the  Jew,  pointing  to  the  candle,  mo- 
tioned him  to  light  it.  He  did  so  ;  and,  as  he  placed  the 
candlestick  upon  the  table,  saw  that  the  Jew  was  gazing 
fixedly  at  him,  with  lowering  and  contracted  brows,  from  the 
dark  end  of  the  room. 

"  Take  heed,   Oliver  !    take  heed  ! "    said  the  old  man, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  151 

shaking  his  right  hand  before  him  in  a  warning  manner. 
"  He's  a  rough  man,  and  thinks  nothing  of  blood  when  his 
own  is  up*.  Whatever  falls  out,  say  nothing  ;  and  do  what 
he  bids  you.  Mind  !  "  Placing  a  strong  emphasis  on  the 
last  word,  he  suffered  his  features  gradually  to  resolve  them- 
selves into  a  ghastly  grin,  and,  nodding  his  head,  left  the 
room. 

Oliver  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  when  the  old  man 
disappeared,  and  pondered,  with  a  trembling  heart,  on  the 
words  he  had  just  heard.  The  more  he  thought  of  the 
Jew's  admonition,  the  more  he  was  *at  a  loss  to  divine  its 
real  purpose  and  meaning.  He  could  think  of  no  bad  ob- 
ject to  be  attained  by  sending  him  to  Sikes  which  would  not 
be  equally  well  answered  by  his  remaining  with  Fagin  ;  and 
after  meditating  for  a  long  time,  concluded  that  he  had  been 
selected  to  perform  some  ordinary  menial  offices  for  the 
house-breaker,  until  another  boy,  better  suited  for  his  pur- 
pose, could  be  engaged.  He  was  too  well  accustomed  to 
suffering,  and  had  suffered  too  much  where  he  was,  to  be- 
wail the  prospect  of  change  very  severely.  He  remained 
lost  in  thought  for  some  minutes  ;  and  then,  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  snuffed  the  candle,  and,  taking  up  the  book  which  the 
Jew  had  left  with  him,  began  to  read. 

He  turned  over  the  leaves.  Carelessly  at  first  ;  but  light- 
ing on  a  passage  which  attracted  his  attention,  he  soon  be- 
came intent  upon  the  volume.  It  was  a  history  of  the  lives 
and  trials  of  great  criminals,  and  the  pages  were  soiled  and 
thumbed  with  use.  Here  he  read  of  dreadful  crimes  that 
made  the  blood  run  cold  ;  of  secret  murders  that  had  been 
committed  by  the  lonely  wayside  ;  of  bodies  hidden  from 
the  eye  of  man  in  deep  pits  and  wells,  which  would  not  keep 
them  down,  deep  as  they  were,  but  had  yielded  them  up  at 
last  after  many  years,  and  so  maddened  the  murderers  with 
the  sight,  that  in  their  horror  they  had  confessed  their  guilt, 
and  yelled  for  the  gibbet  to  end  their  agony.  Here,  too,  he 
read  of  men  who,  lying  in  their  beds  at  dead  of  night,  had 
been  tempted  (so  they  said)  and  led  on,  by  their  own  bad 
thoughts,  to  such  dreadful  bloodshed  as  it  made  the  flesh 
creep  and  the  limbs  quail  to  think  of.  The  terrible  descrip- 
tions were  so  real  and  vivid,  that  the  sallow  pages  seemed  to 
turn  red  with  gore,  and  the  words  upon  them  to  be  sounded 
in  his  ears  as  if  they  were  whispered,  in  hollow  murmurs,  by 
the  spirits  of  the  dead. 


152  OLIVER  TWIST. 

In  a  paroxysm  of  fear,  the  boy  closed  the  book  and  thrust 
it  from  him.  Then,  falling  upon  his  knees,  he  prayed  heaven 
to  spare  him  from  such  deeds  ;  and  rather  to  will  that  he 
should  die  at  once,  than  be  reserved  for  crimes  so  fearful 
and  appalling.  By  degrees  he  grew  more  calm,  and  besought, 
in  a  low  and  broken  voice,  that  he  might  be  rescued  from 
his  present  dangers  ;  and  that  if  any  aid  were  to  be  raised 
up  for  a  poor  outcast  boy  who  had  never  known  the  love  of 
friends  or  kindred,  it  might  come  to  him  now,  when,  deso- 
late and  deserted,  he  stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  wickedness 
and  guilt. 

He  had  concluded  his  prayer,  but  still  remained  with  his 
head  buried  in  his  hands,  when  a  rustling  noise  aroused 
him. 

"  What's  that !  "  he  cried,  starting  up,  and  catching  sight 
of  a  figure  standing  by  the  door.     "  Who's  there  ?  " 

"  Me.     Only  me,"  replied  a  tremulous  voice. 

Oliver  raised  the  candle  above  his  head,  and  looked  to- 
ward the  door.     It  was  Nancy. 

u  Put  down  the  light,"  said  the  girl,  turning  away  her  head. 
"  It  hurts  my  eyes." 

Oliver  saw  that  she  was  very  pale,  and  gently  inquired  if 
she  were  ill.  The  girl  threw  herself  into  a  chair  with  her 
back  toward  him,  and  wrung  her  hands,  but  made  no  re- 
ply. 

"  God  forgive  me  !  "  she  cried,  after  a  while,  I  never 
thought  of  this." 

"  Has  any  thing  happened  ?  "  asked  Oliver.  "  Can  I  help 
you  ?  I  will  if  I  can.     I  will,  indeed." 

She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  caught  her  throat,  and, 
uttering  a  gurgling  sound,  gasped  for  breath. 

"  Nancy  !  "  cried  Oliver,  "  what  is  it  ?" 

The  girl  beat  her  hands  upon  her  knees,  and  lier  feet  upon 
the  ground  ;  and,  suddenly  stopping,  drew  her  shawl  close 
round  her,  and  shivered  with  coM. 

Oliver  stirred  the  fire.  Drawing  her  chair  close  to  it,  she 
sat  there  for  a  little  time,  without  speaking  ;  but  at  length 
she  raised  her  head,  and  looked  round. 

"I  don't  know  what  comes  over  me  sometimes,"  said  she, 
affecting  to  busy  herself  in  arranging  her  dress  ;  "  it's  this 
damp,  dirty  room,  I  think.  Now,  Nolly,  dear,  are  you 
ready  ? " 

"  Am  I  to  go  with  you  ? "  asked  Olivet 


OLIVER  TWIST  153 

*  Yes,  I  have  come  from  Bill, '  replied  the  girl.  "  You 
are  to  go  with  me." 

"What  for?"  asked  Oliver,  recoiling. 

"  What  for  ?  "  echoed  the  girl,  raising  her  eyes,  and  avert- 
ing them  again  the  moment  they  encountered  the  boy's  face. 
"  Oh  !  For  no  harm." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Oliver,  who  had  watched  her 
closely. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  rejoined  the  girl,  affecting  to 
laugh.     "  For  no  good,  then." 

Oliver  could  see  that  he  had  some  power  over  the  girl's 
better  feelings,  and,  for  an  instant,  thought  of  appealing  to 
her  compassion  for  his  helpless  state.  But  then  the  thought 
darted  across  his  mind  that  it  was  barely  eleven  o'clock,  and 
that  many  people  were  still  in  the  streets,  of  whom  surely 
some  might  be  found  to  give  credence  to  his  tale.  As  the 
reflection  occurred  to  him,  he  stepped  forward,  and  said, 
somewhat  hastily,  that  he  was  ready. 

Neither  his  brief  consideration  nor  its  purport  was  lost  on 
his  companion.  She  eyed  him  narrowly  while  he  spoke,  and 
cast  upon  him  a  look  of  intelligence  which  sufficiently  showed 
that  she  guessed  what  had  been  passing  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  girl,  stooping  over  him,  and  pointing 
to  the  door  as  she  looked  cautiously  round.  "You  can't 
help  yourself.  I  have  tried  hard  for  you,  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. You  are  hedged  round  and  round.  If  ever  you  are 
to  get  loose  from  here,  this  is  not  the  time." 

Struck  by  the  energy  of  her  manner,  Oliver  looked  up  in 
her  face  in  great  surprise.  She  seemed  to  speak  the  truth  ; 
her  countenance  was  white  and  agitated,  and  she  trembled 
with  very  earnestness. 

"  I  have  saved  you  from  being  ill-used  once,  and  I  will 
again,  and  I  do  now,"  continued  the  girl,  aloud  ;  "  for  those 
who  would  have  fetched  you  if  I  had  not,  would  have  been 
far  more  rough  than  me.  I  have  promised  for  your  being 
quiet  and  silent ;  if  you  are  not,  you  will  only  do  harm  to 
yourself  and  me  too,  and  perhaps  be  my  death.  See  here  ! 
I  have  borne  all  this  for  you  already,  as  true  as  God  sees  me 
show  it." 

She  pointed  hastily  to  some  livid  bruises  on  her  neck  and 
arms,  and  continued,  with  great  rapidity  : 

"  Remember  this  !  And  don't  let  me  suffer  more  for  you,' 
just  now.     If  I  could  help  you,  I  would  ;  but  I  have  not 


134  OLIVER  TWIST. 

the  power.  They  don't  mean  to  harm  you  ;  whatever  they 
make  you  do  is  no  fault  of  yours.  Hush  !  Every  word 
from  you  is  a  blow  for  me.  Give  me  your  hand.  Make 
haste  !     Your  hand  !  " 

She  caught  the  hand  which  Oliver  instinctively  placed  in 
hers,  and,  blowing  out  the  light,  drew  him  after  her  up  the 
stairs.  The  door  was  opened  quickly  by  some  one  shroud- 
ed in  the  darkness,  and  was  as  quickly  closed  when  they  had 
passed  out.  A  hackney-cabriolet  was  in  waiting  ;  with  the 
same  vehemence  which  she  had  exhibited  in  addressing 
Oliver,  the  girl  pulled  him  in  with  her,  and  drew  the  cur- 
tains close.  The  driver  wanted  no  directions,  but  lashed 
his  horse  into  full  speed  without  the  delay  of  an  instant. 

The  girl  still  held  Oliver  fast  by  the  hand,  and  continued 
to  pour  into  his  ear  the  warnings  and  assurances  she  had  al- 
ready imparted.  All  was  so  quick  and  hurried,  that  he  had 
scarcely  time  to  recollect  where  he  was,  or  how  he  came 
there,  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  house  to  which  the 
Jew's  steps  had  been  directed  on  the  previous  evening. 

For  one  brief  moment,  Oliver  cast  a  hurried  glance  along 
the  empty  street,  and  a  cry  for  help  hung  upon  his  lips.  But 
the  girl's  voice  was  in  his  ear,  beseeching  him  in  such  tones 
of  agony  to  remember  her,  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  ut- 
ter it.  While  he  hesitated  the  opportunity  was  gone  ;  he 
was  already  in  the  house,  and  the  door  was  shut. 

"This  way,"  said  the  girl,  releasing  her  hold  for  the  first 
time.     "  Bill !  " 

**  Halloo  !  "  replied  Sikes,  appearing  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  with  a  candle.  "  Oh  1  That's  the  time  of  day  I 
Come  on  !  " 

This  was  a  very  strong  expression  of  approbation,  an  un- 
commonly hearty  welcome,  from  a  person  of  Mr.  Sikes's 
temperament.  Nancy,  appearing  much  gratified  thereby, 
saluted  him  cordially. 

"Bull's-eye's  gone  home  with  Tom,"  observed  Sikes,  as  he 
lighted  them  up.     "  He'd  have  been  in  the  way." 

"  That's  right,"  returned  Nancy. 

"  So  you've  got  the  kid,"  said  Sikes,  when  they  had  all 
reached  the  room,  closing  the  door  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  here  he  is,"  replied  Nancy. 

"  Did  he  come  quiet  ?  "  inquired  Sikes. 

"  Like  a  lamb,"  rejoined  Nancy. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Sikes,  looking  grimly  at  OH- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  135 

ver ;  "  for  the  sake  of  his  young  carcass  :  as  would  other- 
ways  have  suffered  for  it.  Come  here,  young  'un  ;  and  let 
me  read  you  a  lectur',  which  is  as  well  got  over  at  once." 

Thus  addressing  his  new  pupil,  Mr.  Sikes  pulled  off  Oli- 
ver's cap  and  threw  it  into  a  corner  ;  and  then,  taking  him 
by  the  shoulder,  sat  himself  down  by  the  table,  and  stood 
the  boy  in  front  of  him. 

"  Now,  first  :  do  you  know  what  this  is  ?  "  inquired  Sikes, 
taking  up  a  pocket-pistol  which  lay  on  the  table. 

Oliver  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Well,  then,  look  here,"  continued  Sikes.  "  This  is  pow- 
der ;  that  'ere's  a  bullet  ;  and  this  is  a  little  bit  of  a  old  hat 
for  waddin'." 

Oliver  murmured  his  comprehension  of  the  different 
bodies  referred  to  ;  and  Mr.  Sikes  proceeded  to  load  the 
pistol,  with  great  nicety  and  deliberation. 

"  Now  it's  loaded,"  said  Mr.  Sikes,  when  he  had  finished. 

"  Yes,  I  see  it  is,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Well,"  said  the  robber,  grasping  Oliver's  wrist,  and  put- 
ting the  barrel  so  close  to  his  temple  that  they  touched  ;  at 
which  moment  the  boy  could  not  repress  a  start  ;  "  if  you 
speak  a  word  when  you're  out  o'  doors  with  me,  except  when 
I  speak  to  you,  that  loading  will  be  in  your  head  without  no- 
tice. So,  if  you  do  make  up  your  mind  to  speak  without 
leave,  say  your  prayers  first." 

Having  bestowed  a  scowl  upon  the  object  of  this  warn- 
ing, to  increase  its  effect,  Mr.  Sikes  continued. 

"  As  near  as  I  know,  there  isn't  any  body  as  would  be 
asking  very  partickler  arter  you,  if  you  was  disposed  of  ;  so 
I  needn't  take  this  devil-and-all  of  trouble  to  explain  mat- 
ters to  you,  if  it  warn't  for  your  own  good.  D'ye  hear 
me  !  " 

"'The  short  and  the  long  of  what  you  mean,"  said  Nancy, 
— speaking  very  emphatically,  and  slightly  frowning  at  Oli- 
ver as  if  to  bespeak  his  serious  attention  to  her  words — "  is 
that  if  you're  crossed  by  him  in  this  job  you  have  on  hand, 
you'll  prevent  his  ever  telling  tales  afterward  by  shooting 
him  through  the  head,  and  will  take  your  chance  of  swing- 
ing for  it,  as  you  do  for  a  great  many  other  things  in  the  way 
of  business,  every  month  of  your  life." 

"  That's  it  !  "  observed  Mr.  Sikes,  approvingly  ;  "women 
can  always  put  things  in  fewest  words. — Except  when  it's 
blowing  up,  and  then  they  lengthens  it  out.     And  now  that 


158  OLIVER  TWIST. 

chaise-carts  filled  with  live-stock  or  whole  carcasses  of  meat  • 
milk-women  with  pails  ;  an  unbroken  concourse  of  people, 
trudging  out  with  various  supplies  to  the  eastern  suburbs  of 
the  town.  As  they  approached  the  City,  the  noise  and 
traffic  gradually  increased  ;  when  they  threaded  the  streets 
between  Shoreditch  and  Smithfield,  it  had  swelled  into  .a 
roar  of  sound  and  bustle.  It  was  as  light  as  it  was  likely 
to  be  till  night  came  on  again,  and  the  busy  morning  of 
half  the  London  population  had  begun. 

Turning  down  Sun  Street  and  Crown  Street,  and  crossing 
Finsbury  Square,  Mr.  Sikes  struck,  by  way  of  Chiswell 
Street,  into  Barbican  ;  thence  into  Long'  Lane,  and  so  into 
Smithfield  ;  from  which  latter  place  arose  a  tumult  of 
discordant  sounds  that  filled  Oliver  Twist  with  amaze- 
ment. 

It  was  market-morning.  The  ground  was  covered,  nearly 
ankle  deep,  with  filth  and  mire  ;  a  thick  steam,  perpetually 
rising  from  the  reeking*  bodies  of  the  cattle,  and  mingling 
with  the  fog,  which  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  chimney-tops, 
hung  heavily  above.  All  the  pens  in  the  center  of  the  large 
area,  and  as  many  temporary  pens  as  could  be  crowded  into 
the  vacant  space,  were  filled  with  sheep  ;  tied  up  to  posts 
by  the  gutter  side  were  long  lines  of  beasts  and  oxen,  three 
or  four  deep.  Countrymen,  butchers,  drovers,  hawkers, 
boys,  thieves,  idlers,  and  vagabonds  of  every  low  grade, 
were  mingled  together  in  a  mass  ;  the  whistling  of  drovers, 
the  barking  of  dogs,  the  bellowing  and  plunging  of  oxen, 
the  bleating  of  sheep,  the  grunting  and  squeaking  of  pigs, 
the  cries  of  hawkers,  the  shouts,  oaths,  and  quarreling  on 
all  sides  ;  the  ringing  of  bells  and  roar  of  voices,  that  issued 
from  every  public-house  ;  the  crowding,  pushing,  driving, 
beating,  whooping,  and  yelling  ;  the  hideous  and  discordant 
din  that  resounded  from  every  corner  of  the  market  ;  and 
the  unwashed,  unshaven,  squalid,  and  dirty  figures  constant- 
ly running  to  and  fro,  and  bursting  in  and  out  of  the  throng, 
rendered  it  a  stunning  and  bewildering  scene,  which  quite 
confounded  the  senses. 

Mr.  Sikes,  dragging  Oliver  after  him,  elbowed  his  way 
through  the  thickest  of  the  crowd,  and  bestowed  very  little 
attention  on  the  numerous  sights  and  sounds  which  so  as- 
tonished the  boy.  He  nodded,  twice  or  thrice,  to  a  passing 
friend  ;  and,  resisting  as  many  invitations  to  take  a  morning 
dram,  pressed  steadily  onward,  until  they  were  clear  of  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  159 

turmoil,  and  had  made  their  way  through  Hosier  Lane  into 
Holburn. 

"  Now,  young  un  !  "  said  Sikes,  looking  up  at  the  clock  of 
St.  Andrew's  Church,  "  hard  upon  seven  !  you  must  step 
out.     Come,  don't  lag  behind  already,  Lazy-legs  !  " 

Mr.  Sikes  accompanied  this  speech  with  a  jerk  at  his  little 
companion's  wrist.  Oliver,  quickening  his  pace  into  a  kind 
of  trot,  between  a  fast  walk  and  a  run,  kept  up  with  the 
rapid  strides  of  the  housebreaker  as  well  as  he  could. 

They  held  their  course  at  this  rate  until  they  had  passed 
Hyde  Park  corner,  and  were  on  their  way  to  Kensington  ; 
when  Sikes  relaxed  his  pace,  until  an  empty  cart,  which  was 
cat  some  little  distance  behind  came  up.  Seeing  "  Houn- 
slow  "  written  on  it,  he  asked  the  driver  with  as  much  civil- 
ity as  he  could  assume,  if  he  would  give  them  a  lift  as  far  as 
Isleworth. 

"  Jump  up,"  said  the  man.     "Is  that  your  boy  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he's  my  boy,"  replied  Sikes,  looking  hard  at  Ol- 
iver, and  putting  his  hand  abstractedly  into  the  pocket  where 
the  pistol  was. 

"  Your  father  walks  rather  too  quick  for  you,  don't  he,  my 
man  ?  "  inquired  the  driver  ;  seeing  that  Oliver  was  out  of 
breath. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Sikes,  interposing.  "  He's  used 
to  it.     Here,  take  hold  of  my  hand,  Ned.     In  with  you  !  " 

Thus  addressing  Oliver,  he  helped  him  into  the  cart ;  and 
the  driver,  pointing  to  a  heap  of  sacks,  told  him  to  lie  down 
there  and  rest  himself. 

As  they  passed  the  different  mile-stones,  Oliver  wondered, 
more  and  more,  where  his  companion  meant  to  take  him. 
Kensington,  Hammersmith,  Chiswick,  Kew  Bridge,  Brent- 
ford were  all  passed  ;  and  yet  they  went  on  as  steadily  as  if 
they  had  only  just  begun  their  journey.  At  length  they 
came  to  a  public-house  called  the  Coach  and  Horses  ;  a 
little  way  beyond  which,  another  road  appeared  to  turn  off. 
And  here  the  cart  stopped. 

Sikes  dismounted  with  great  precipitation,  holding  Oliver 
by  the  hand  all  the  while  ;  and,  lifting  him  down  directly, 
bestowed  a  furious  look  upon  him,  and  rapped  the  side- 
pocket  with  his  fist  in  a  significant  manner. 

"Good-by,  boy,"  said  the  man. 

"  He's  sulky,"  replied  Sikes,  giving  him  a  shake ;  "  he's 
sulky.     A  young  dog !     Don't  mind  him." 


160  OLIVER  TWIST 

"  Not  I  !  "  rejoined  the  other,  getting  into  his  cart.  "It's 
a  fine  day,  after  all."     And  he  drove  away. 

Sikes  waited  until  he  had  fairly  gone  ;  and  then  telling 
Oliver  he  might  look  aboin  him  if  he  wanted,  once  again 
led  him  onward  on  his  journey. 

They  turned  round  to  the  left,  a  short  way  past  the  pub- 
lic-house ;  and,  then,  taking  a  right-hand  road,  walked  on 
for  a  long  time  ;  passing  many  large  gardens  and  gentle- 
men's houses  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  and  stopping  for 
nothing  but  a  little  beer  until  they  reached  a  town.  Here, 
against  the  wall  of  a  house,  Oliver  saw  written  up  in  pretty 
large  letters,  "  Hampton."  They  lingered  about  in  the 
fields  for  some  hours.  At  length  they  came  back  into  the 
town  ;  and,  turning  into  an  old  public-house  with  a  defaced 
sign-board,  ordered  some  dinner  by  the  kitchen  fire. 

The  kitchen  was  an  old,  low-roofed  room  ;  with  a  great 
beam  across  the  middle  of  the  ceiling,  and  benches,  with 
high  backs  to  them,  by  the  fire  ;  oh  which  were  seated  sev- 
eral rough  men  in  smock-frocks,  drinking  and  smoking. 
They  took  no  notice  of  Oliver,  and  very  little  of  Sikes  ;  and, 
as  Sikes  took  very  little  notice  of  them,  he  and  his  young 
comrade  sat  in  a  corner  by  themselves,  without  being  much 
troubled  by  their  company. 

They  had  some  cold  meat  for  dinner,  and  sat  so  long 
after  it,  while  Mr.  Sikes  indulged  himself  with  three  or  four 
pipes,  that  Oliver  began  to  feel  quite  certain  they  were  not 
going  any  further.  -Being  much  tired  with  the  walk,  and 
getting  up  so  early,  he  dozed  a  little  at  first ;  then,  quite  over- 
powered by  fatigue  and  the  fumes  of  the  tobacco,  fell  asleep. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  was  awakened  by  a  push  from 
Sikes.  Rousing  himself  sufficiently  to  sit  up  and  look  about 
him,  he  found  that  worthy  in  close  fellowship  and  communi- 
cation with  a  laboring  man  over  a  pint  of  ale. 

"  So  you're  going  on  to  Lower  Halliford,  are  you?"  in- 
quired Sikes. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  the  man,  who  seemed  a  little  the  worse 
— or  better,  as  the  case  might  be — for  drinking  ;  "  and 
not  slow  about  it,  neither.  My  horse  hasn't  got  a  load  be- 
hind him  going  back,  as  he  had  coming  up  in  the  mornin'  ; 
and  he  won't  be  long  a-doing  of  it.  Here's  luck  to  him  ! 
Ecod  !  he's  a  good  un  !  v' 

"  Could  you  give  my  boy  and  me  a  lift  as  far  as  there  ? " 
demanded  Sikes,  pushing  the  ale  toward  his  new  friend. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  161 

"  If  you're  going  directly,  I  can,"  replied  the  man,  look- 
ing out  of  the  pot.     "  Are  you  going  to  Halliford  ?  " 

"  Going  on  to  Shepperton,"  replied  Sikes. 

"  I'm  your  man,  as  far  as  I  go,"  replied  the  other.  "  Is 
all  paid,  Becky  ?  " 

Yes,  the  other  gentleman's  paid,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  I  say  !  "  replied  the  man,  with  tipsy  gravity  ;  "  that  won't 
do,  you  know." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  rejoined  Sikes.  "  You're  a-going  to  accom- 
modate us,  and  wot's  to  prevent  my  standing  treat  for  a 
pint  or  so,  in  return?" 

The  stranger  reflected  upon  this  argument  with  a  very 
profound  face  ;  having  done  so,  he  seized  Sikes  by  the  hand, 
and  declared  he  was  a  real  good  fellow.  To  which  Mr. 
Sikes  replied,  he  was  joking  ;  as,  if  he  had  been  sober,  there 
would  have  been  strong  reason  to  suppose  he  was. 

After  the  exchange  of  a  few  more  compliments,  they  bade 
the  company  good-night,  and  went  out ;  the  girl  gathering 
up  the  pots  and  glasses  as  they  did  so,  and  lounging  out  to 
the  door,  with  her  hands  full,  to  see  the  party  start. 

The  horse,  whose  health  had  been  drunk  in  his  absence, 
was  standing  outside,  ready  harnessed  to  th^cart.  Oliver 
and  Sikes  got  in  without  any  further  ceremony  ;  and  the 
man  to  whom  he  belonged,  having  lingered  for  a  minute  or 
two  "  to  bear  him  up,"  and  to  defy  the  hostler  and  the 
world  to  produce  his  equal,  mounted  also.  Then  the  host- 
ler was  told  to  give  the  horse  his  head  ;  and,  his  head  being 
given  him,  he  made  a  very  unpleasant  use  of  it — tossing  it 
into  the  air  with  great  disdain,  and  running  into  the  parlor 
windows  over  the  way  :  after  performing  those  feats,  and 
supporting  himself  for  a  short  time  on  his  hind-legs,  he 
started  off  at  great  speed,  and  rattled  out  of  the  town  right 
gallantly. 

The  night  was  very  dark.  A  damp  mist  rose  from  the 
river  and  the  marshy  ground  about,  and  spread  itself  over 
the  dreary  fields.  It  was  piercing  cold,  too  ;  all  was  gloomy 
and  black.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  ;  for  the  driver  had 
grown  sleepy,  and  Sikes  was  in  no  mood  to  lead  him  into 
conversation.  Oliver  sat  huddled  together  in  a  corner  of 
the  cart,  bewildered  with  alarm  and  apprehension  ;  and  fig- 
uring strange  objects  in  the  gaunt  trees,  whose  branches 
waved  grimly  to  and  fro,  as  if  in  some  fantastic  joy  at  the 
desolation  of.  the  scene. 


i62  OLIVER  TWIST. 

As  they  passed  Sunbury  Church,  the  clock  struck  seven 
There  was  a  light  in  the  ferry-house  window  opposite,  which 
streamed  across  the  road,  and  threw  into  more  somber  shad- 
ow a  dark  yew-tree  with  graves  beneath  it.  There  was  a 
dull  sound  of  falling  water  not  far  off ;  and  the  leaves  of  the 
old  tree  stired  gently  in  the  night  wind.  It  seemed  like 
quiet  music  for  the  repose  of  the  dead. 

Sunbury  was  passed  through,  and  they  came  again  into 
the  lonely  road.  Two  or  three  miles  more,  and  the  cart 
stopped.  Sikes  alighted,  took  Oliver  by  the  hand,  and  they 
once  again  walked  on. 

They  turned  into  no  house  at  Shepperton,  as  the  weary 
boy  had  expected  ;  but  still  kept  walking  on,  in  mud  and 
darkness,  through  gloomy  lanes,  and  over  cold  open  wastes, 
until  they  came  within  sight  of  the  lights  of  a  town  at  no 
great  distance.  On  looking  intently  forward,  Oliver  saw 
that  the  water  was  just  below  them,  and  that  they  were  com- 
ing to  the  foot  of  a  bridge. 

Sikes  kept  straight  on  until  they  were  close  upon  the 
bridge,  then  turned  suddenly  down  a  bank  upon  the  left 

"  The  water  !  "  thought  Oliver,  turning  sick  with  fear- 
"  He  has  brcrt%ht  me  to  this  lonely  place  to  murder  me  !  " 

He  was  about  to  throw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  make 
one  struggle  for  his  young  life,  when  he  saw  that  they  stood 
before  a  solitary  house,  all  ruinous  and  decayed.  There  wa? 
a  window  on  each  side  of  the  dilapidated  entrance,  and  one 
story  above,  but  no  light  was  visible.  The  house  was  dark, 
dismantled  ;  and,  to  appearance  uninhabited. 

Sikes,  with  Oliver's  hand  still  in  his,  softly  approached 
the  low  porch  and  raised  the  latch.  The  door  yielded  to  the 
pressure,  and  they  passed  in  together. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    BURGLARY. 

"  Halloo  !  "  cried  a  loud,  hoarse  voice,  as  soon  as  they 
set  foot  in  the  passage. 

"  Don't  make  such  a  row,"  said  Sikes,  bolting  the  door. 
"  Show  a  glim,  Toby." 

"Aha  !  my  pal  !'"  cried  the  same  voice.     "A  glim,  Bar- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  163 

ney,  a  glim  !  Show  the  gentleman  in,  Barney  ;  wake  up,  first, 
if  convenient." 

The  speaker  appeared  to  throw  a  boot-jack,  or  some  such 
article,  at  the  person  he  addressed,  to  rouse  him  from  his  slum- 
bers ;  for  the  noise  of  a  wooden  body,  falling  violently,  was 
heard  ;  and  then  an  indistinct  muttering,  as  of  a  man  be- 
tween asleep  and  awake. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  cried  the  same  voice.  "  There's  Bill 
Sikes  in  the  passage,  with  nobody  to  do  the  civil  to  him  ;  and 
you  sleeping  there,  as  if  you  took  laudanum  with  your  meals, 
and  nothing  stronger.  Are  you  any  fresher  now,  or  do  you 
want  the  iron  candlestick  to  wake  you  thoroughly  ? " 

A  pair  of  slipshod  feet  shuffled,  hastily,  across  the  bare 
floor  of  the  room,  as  this  interrogatory  was  put,  and  there 
issued,  from  a  door  on  the  right  hand,  first,  a  feeble  candle  ; 
and  next,  the  form  of  the  same  individual  who  has  been 
heretofore  described  as  laboring  under  the  infirmity  of  speak- 
ing through  his  nose,  and  officiating  as  waiter  at  the  public 
house  on  Saffron  Hill. 

"  Bister  Sikes  !  "  exclaimed  Barney,  with  real  or  counter- 
feit joy  ;  "cub  id,  sir  ;  cub  id." 

"  Here  !  you  get  on  first,"  said  Sikes,  putting  Oliver  in 
front  of  him.  "  Quicker  !  or  I  shall  tread  upon  your 
heels." 

Muttering  a  curse  upon  his  tardiness,  Sikes  pushed  Oliver 
before  him  ;  and  they  entered  a  low  dark  room,  with  a  smoky 
fire,  two  or  three  broken  chairs,  a  table,  and  a  very  old 
couch,  on  which,  with  his  legs  much  higher  than  his  head, 
a  man  was  reposing  at  full  length,  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  smartly-cut  snuff-colored  coat,  with 
large  brass  buttons  ;  an  orange  neckerchief  ;  a  coarse,  star- 
ing, shawl-pattern  waist-coat  ;  and  drab  breeches.  Mr. 
Crackit  (for  he  it  was)  had  no  very  great  quantity  of  hair, 
either  upon  his  head  or  face  ;  but  what  he  had  was  of  a  red- 
dish dye,  and  tortured  into  long  corkscrew  curls,  through 
which  he  occasionally  thrust  some  very  dirty  fingers,  orna- 
mented with  large  common  rings.  He  was  a  trifle  above  the 
middle  size,  and  apparently  rather  weak  in  the  legs  ;  but 
tills  circumstance  by  no  means  detracted  from  his  own  ad- 
miration of  his  top-boots,  which  he  contemplated,  in  their 
elevated  situation,  with  lively  satisfaction. 

"  Bill,  my  boy  !  "  said  this  figure,  turning  his  head  toward 
the  door,  *  I'm  glad  to  see  you.     I  was  almost  afraid  you'd 


164  OLIVER  TWIST. 

given  it  up  ;  in  which  case  I  should  have  made  a  personal 
wentur.     Halloo  !  " 

Uttering  this  exclamation  in  a  tone  of  great  surprise,  as 
his  eye  rested  on  Oliver,  Mr.  Toby  Crackit  brought  himself 
into  a  sitting  posture,  and  demanded  who  that  was. 

"  The  boy.  Only  the  boy  !  "  replied  Sikes,  drawing  a 
chair  toward  the  fire. 

"  Wud  of  Bister  Fagid's  lads,"  exclaimed  Barney,  with  a 
grin. 

■■  Fagin's,  eh  ?  "  exclaimed  Toby,  looking  at  Oliver.  "  Wot 
an  invalable  boy  that'll  make  for  the  old  ladies'  pockets  in 
chapels  !     His  mug  is  a  fortun'  to  him." 

"  There — there's  enough  of  that,"  interposed  Sikes,  impa- 
tiently ;  and  stooping  over  his  recumbent  friend,  he  whis- 
pered a  few  words  in  his  ear,  at  which  Mr.  Crackit 
laughed  immensely,  and  honored  Oliver  with  a  long  stare  of 
astonishment. 

"Now,"  said  Sikes,  as  he  resumed  his  seat,  "  if  you'll  give 
us  something  to  eat  and  drink  while  we're  waiting,  you'll  put 
some  heart  in  its  ;  or  in  me.  at  all  events.  Sit  down  by  the 
fire,  younker,  and  rest  yourself ;  for  you'll  have  to  go  out 
with  us  again  to-night,  though  not  very  far  off." 

Oliver  looked  at  Sikes,  in  mute  and  timid  wonder  ;  and 
drawing  a  stool  to  the  fire,  sat  with  his  aching  head  upon  his 
hands,  scarcely  knowing  where  he  was,  or  what  was  passing 
around  him. 

"  Here,"  said  Toby,  as  the  young  Jew  placed  some  frag- 
ments of  food  and  a  bottle  upon  the  table,  "  Success  to  the 
crack  !  "  He  rose  to  honor  the  toast,  and,  carefully  depos- 
iting his  empty  pipe  in  a  corner,  advanced  to  the  table,  filled 
a  glass  with  spirits,  and  drank  off  its  contents.  Mr.  Sikes 
did  the  same. 

"  A  drain  for  the  boy,"  said  Toby,  half  filling  a  wine-glass. 
"Down  with  it,  Innocence." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Oliver,  looking  piteously  up  into  the  man's 
face,  "  indeed,  I — " 

"  Down  with  it  !  "  echoed  Toby.  "  Do  you  think  I 
don't  know  what's  good  for  you?  Tell  him  to  drink  it, 
Bill." 

"  He  had  better  !  "  said  Sikes,  clapping  his  hand  upon  his 
pocket.  "  Burn  my  body,  if  he  isn't  more  trouble  than  a 
whole  family  of  Dodgers  !  Drink  it,  you  perwerse  imp  ! 
drink  it  !  "  ' 


OLIVER  TWIST.  165 

Frightened  by  the  menacing  gestures  of  the  two  men, 
Oliver  hastily  swallowed  the  contents  of  the  glass,  and  im- 
mediately fell  into  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  which  delighted 
Toby  Crackit  and  Barney,  and  even  drew  a  smile  from  the 
surly  Mr.  Sikes. 

This  done,  and  Sikes  having  satisfied  his  appetite  (Oliver 
could  eat  nothing  but  a  small  crust  of  bread  which  they 
made  him  swallow),  the  two  men  laid  themselves  down  on 
chairs  for  a  short  nap.  Oliver  retained  his  stool  by  the  fire  ; 
Barney,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  stretched  himself  on  the  floor, 
close  outside  the  fender. 

They  slept,  or  appeared  to  sleep,  for  some  time  ;  nobody 
stirring  but  Barney,  who  rose  once  or  twice  to  throw  coals 
upon  the  fire.  Oliver  fell  into  a  heavy  doze,  imagining  him- 
self straying  along  the  gloomy  lanes,  or  wandering  about  the 
dark  church-yard,  or  retracing  some  one  or  other  of  the 
scenes  of  the  past  day,  when  he  was  roused  by  Toby  Crackit 
jumping  up  and  declaring  it  was  half-past  one. 

In  an  instant  the  other  two  were  on  their  legs,  and  all 
were  actively  engaged  in  busy  preparation.  Sikes  and  his 
companion  enveloped  their  necks  and  chins  in  large  dark 
shawls,  and  drew  on  their  great-coats  ;  Barney,  opening  a 
cupboard,  brought  forth  several  articles,  which  he  hastily 
crammed  into  the  pockets.    ' 

■  Barkers  for  me,  Barney,"  said  Toby  Crackit. 

"  Here  they  are,"  replied  Barney,  producing  a  pair  of 
pistols.     "  You  loaded  them  yourself." 

"  All  right  !  "  replied  Toby,  stowing  them  away.  "  The 
persuaders  ?  " 

"  I've  got  'em,"  replied  Sikes. 

"  Crape,  keys,  center-bits,  darkies — nothing  forgotten?" 
inquired  Toby,  fastening  a  small  crowbar  to  a  loop  inside 
the  skirt  of  his  coat. 

"  All  right,"  rejoined  his  companion.  "  Bring  them  bits 
of  timber,  Barney-     That's  the  time  of  day  !  " 

With  these  words,  he  took  a  thick  stick  from  Barney's 
hands,  who,  having  delivered  another  to  Tobys  busied  him- 
self in  fastening  on  Oliver's  cape. 

"  Now  then  !  "  said  Sikes,  holding  out  his  hand. 

Oliver,  who  was  completely  stupefied  by  the  unwonted 
exercise,  and  the  air,  and  the  drink  which  had  been  forced 
upon  him,  put  his  hand  mechanically  into  that  which  Sikes 
extended  for  that  purpose. 


166  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Take  his  other  hand,  Toby,"  said  Sikes.  "  Look  out, 
Barney." 

The  man  went  to  the  door,  and  returned  to  announce 
that  all  was  quiet.  The  two  robbers  issued  forth,  with 
Oliver  between  them.  Barney,  having  made  all  fast,  rolled 
himself  up  as  before,  and  was  soon  asleep  again. 

It  was  now  intensely  dark.  The  fog  was  much  heavier 
than  it  had  been  in  the  early  part  of  the  night  ;  and  the  at- 
mosphere was  so  damp,  that,  although  no  rain  fell,  Oliver's 
hair  and  eyebrows  within  a  few  minutes  after  leaving  the 
house,  had  become  stiff  with  the  half-frozen  moisture  that 
was  floating  about.  They  crossed  the  bridge,  and  kept  on 
toward  the  lights  which  he  had  seen  before.  They  were  at 
no  great  distance  off  ;  and,  as  they  walked  pretty  briskly, 
they  soon  arrived  at  Chertsey. 

"  Slap  through  the  town,"  whispered  Sikes  ;  "  there'll  be 
nobody  in  the  way  to-night  to  see  us." 

Toby  acquiesced  ;  and  they  hurried  through  the  main 
street  of  the  little  town,  which  at  that  late  hour  was  wholly 
deserted.  A  dim  light  shone  at  intervals  from  some  bed- 
room window  ;  and  the  hoarse  barking  of  dogs  occasionally 
broke  the  silence  of  the  night.  But  there  was  nobody 
abroad.  They  had  cleared  the  town  as  the  church-bell 
struck  two. 

Quickening  their  pace,  they  turned  up  a  road  upon  the 
left  hand.  After  walking  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  they 
stopped  before  a  detached  house  surrounded  by  a  wall,  to 
the  top  of  which,  Toby  Crackit,  scarcely  pausing  to  take 
breath,  climbed  in  a  twinkling. 

"  The  boy  next,"  said  Toby.  "  Hoist  him  up  ;  I'll  cutch 
hold  of  him." 

Before  Oliver  had  time  to  look  round,  Sikes  had  caught 
him  under  the  arms  ;  and  in  three  or  four  seconds  he  and 
Toby  were  lying  on  the  grass  on  the  other  side.  Sikes  fol- 
lowed directly.  And  they  stole  cautiously  toward  the 
house. 

And  now,  for  the  first  time,  Oliver,  well-nigh  mad  with 
grief  and  terror,  saw  that  house-breaking  and  robbery,  if  not 
murder,,  were  the  objects  of  the  expedition.  He  clasped  his 
hands  together,  and  involuntarily  uttered  a  subdued  excla- 
mation of  horror.  A  mist  came  before  his  eyes  ;  the  cold 
sweat  stood  upon  his  ashy  face  ;  his  limbs  failed  him,  and  he 
sank  upon  his  knees. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  167 

"  Get  up  !  "  murmured  Sikes,  trembling  with  rage,  and 
drawing  the  pistol  from  his  pocket  ;  "  get  up,  or  I'll  strew 
your  brains  upon  the  grass  !  " 

"  Oh  !  for  God's  sake,  let  me  go  !  "  cried  Oliver  ;  "  let  me 
run  away  and  die  in  the  fields.  I  will  never  come  near 
London  ;  never,  never  !  Oh  !  pray  have  mercy  on  me,  and 
do  not  make  me  steal !  For  the  love  of  all  the  bright  angels 
that  rest  in  heaven,  have  mercy  upon  me  !  " 

The  man  to  whom  this  appeal  was  made  swore  a  dreadful 
oath,  and  had  cocked  the  pistol,  when  Toby,  striking  it 
from  his  grasp,  placed  his  hand  upon  the  boy's  mouth  and 
dragged  him  to  the  house. 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  the  man  ;  "  it  won't  answer  here.  Say 
another  word,  and  I'll  do  your  business  myself  with  a  crack 
on  the  head.  That  makes  no  noise,  and  is  quite  as  certain, 
and  more  genteel.  Here,  Bill,  wrench  the  shutter  open. 
He's  game  enough  now,  I'll  engage.  I've  seen  older  hands 
of  his  age  took  the  same  way  for  a  minute  or  two  on  a  cold 
night." 

Sikes,  invoking  terrific  imprecations  upon  Fagin's  head 
for  sending  Oliver  on  such  an  errand,  plied  the  crowbar 
vigorously,  but  with  little  noise.  After  some  delay,  and 
some  assistance  from  Toby,  the  shutter  to  which  he  had  re- 
ferred swung  open  on  its  hinges. 

It  was  a  little  lattice  window,  about  five  feet  and  a  half 
above  the  ground,  at  the  back  of  the  house,  which  belonged 
to  a  scullery,  or  small  brewing-place,  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage. The  aperture  was  so  small,  that  the  inmates  had  prob- 
ably not  thought  it  worth  while  to  defend  it  more  securely  ; 
but  it  was  large  enough  to  admit  a  boy  of  Oliver's  size, 
nevertheless.  A  very  brief  exercise  of  Mr.  Sikes's  art  sufficed 
to  overcome  the  fastening  of  the  lattice,  and  it  soon  stood 
wide  open  also. 

"  Now  listen,  you  young  limb  !  "  whispered  Sikes,  drawing 
a  dark-lantern  from  his  pocket,  and  throwing  the  glare  full 
on  Oliver's  face  ;  "  I'm  a-going  to  put  you  through  there. 
Take  this  light  ;  go  softly  up  the  steps  straight  afore  you, 
and  along  the  little  hall,  to  the  street-door  ;  unfasten  it,  and 
let  us  in." 

"There's  a  bolt  at  the  top  you  won't  be  able  to  reach," 
interposed  Toby.  "  Stand  upon  one  of  the  hall  chairs 
There  are  three  there,  Bill,  with  a  jolly  large  blue  unicorn 
and  gold  pitchfork  on  'em,  which  is  the  old  lady's  arms." 


168  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Keep  quiet,  can't  you  ?  "  replied  Sikes,  with  a  threaten* 
ing  look.     "  The  room-door  is  open,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Wide,"  replied  Toby,  after  peeping  in  to  satisfy  himself. 
"The  game  of  that  is,  that  they  always  leave  it  open  with  a 
catch,  so  that  the  dog,  who's  got  a  bed  in  here,  may  walk  up 
and  down  the  passage  when  he  feels  wakeful.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
Barney  'ticed  him  away  to-night.     So  neat  !  " 

Although  Mr.  Crackit  spoke  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper, 
and  laughed  without  noise,  Sikes  imperiously  commanded 
him  to  be  silent,  and  to  get  to  work.  Toby  complied,  by 
first  producing  his  lantern,  and  placing  it  on  the  ground  ; 
then  by  planting  himself  firmly  with  his  head  against  the 
wall  beneath  the  window,  and  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  so 
as  to  make  a  step  of  his  back.  This  was  no  sooner  done, 
than  Sikes,  mounting  upon  him,  put  Oliver  gently  through 
the  window  with  his  feet  first  ;  and,  without  leaving  hold  of 
his  collar,  planted  him  safely  on  the  floor  inside. 

"Take  this  lantern,"  said  Sikes,  looking  into  the  room. 
"  You  see  the  stairs  afore  you  ? " 

Oliver,  more  dead  than  alive,  gasped  out,  "Yes."  Sikes, 
pointing  to  the  street-door  with  the  pistol-barrel,  briefly  ad- 
vised him  to  take  notice  that  he  was  within  shot  all  the  way  ; 
and  that  if  he  faltered,  he  would  fall  dead  that  instant. 

"It's  done  in  a  minute,"  said  Sikes,  in  the  same  low 
whisper.  "  Directly  I  leave  go  of  you,  do  your  work. 
Hark !  " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  whispered  the  other  man. 

They  listened  intently. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Sikes,  releasing  his  hold  of  Oliver. 
"  Now  !  " 

In  the  short  time  he  had  had  to  collect  his  senses,  the 
boy  had  firmly  resolved  that,  whether  he  died  in  the  attempt 
or  not,  he  would  make  one  effort  to  dart  up  stairs  from  the 
hall  and  alarm  the  family.  Filled  with  this  idea,  he  ad- 
vanced at  once,  but  stealthily. 

"Come  back  !"  suddenly  cried  Sikes,  aloud — "back! 
back  !  " 

Scared  by  the  sudden  breaking  of  the  dead  stillness  of  the 
place,  and  by  a  loud  cry  which  followed  it,  Oliver  let  his  lan- 
tern fall,  and  knew  not  whether  to  advance  or  fly. 

The  cry  was  repeated — a  light  appeared — a  vision  of  two 
terrified,  half-dressed  men  at  thetop  of  the  stairs  swain  be- 
fore his  eyes — a   flash — a   loud   noise — a   smoke — a  crash 


OLIVER  TWIST.  169 

somewhere,  but  where  he  knew  not — and  he  staggered 
back. 

Sikes  had  disappeared  for  an  instant  ;  but  he  was  up  again, 
and  had  him  by  the  collar  before  the  smoke  had  cleared  away. 
He  fired  his  own  pistol  after  the  men,  who  were  already  re- 
treating, and  dragged  the  boy  up. 

"  Clasp  your  arm  tighter,"  said  Sikes,  as  he  drew  him 
him  through  the  window.  "  Give  me  a  shawl  here.  They've 
hit  him.     Quick  !     How  the  boy  bleeds  !  " 

Then  came  the  loud  ringing  of  a  bell,  mingled  with  the 
noise  of  fire-arms,  and  the  shouts  of  men,  and  the  sensation 
of  being  carried  over  uneven  ground  at  a  rapid  pace.  And 
then  the  noises  grew  confused  in  the  distance  ;  and  a  cold 
deadly  feeling  crept  over  the  boy's  heart ;  and  he  saw  or 
heard  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WHICH  CONTAINS  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  A  PLEASANT  CON- 
VERSATION BETWEEN  MR.  BUMBLE  AND  A  LADY  ;  AND 
SHOWS  THAT  EVEN  A  BEADLE  MAY  BE  SUSCEPTIBLE  ON 
SOME    POINTS. 

The  night  was  bitter  cold.  The  snow  lay  on  the  ground, 
frozen  into  a  hard  thick  crust,  so  that  only  the  heaps  that 
had  drifted  into  by-ways  and  corners  were  affected  by  the 
sharp  wind  that  howled  abroad  ;  which,  as  if  expending  in- 
creased fury  on  such  prey  as  it  found,  caught  it  savagely  up 
in  clouds,  and,  whirling  it  into  a  thousand  misty  eddies,  scat- 
tered it  in  air.  Bleak,  dark,  and  piercing  cold,  it  was  a  night 
for  the  well-housed  and  fed  to  draw  round  the  bright  fire 
and  thank  God  they  were  at  home ;  and  for  the  homeless, 
starving  wretch  to  lay  him  down  and  die.  Many  hunger- 
worn  outcasts  close  their  eyes  in  our  bare  streets  at  such 
times,  who,  let  their  crimes  have  been  what  they  may,  can 
hardly  open  them  in  a  more  bitter  world. 

Such  were  the  aspect  of  out-of-door  affairs,  when  Mrs. 
Corney,  the  matron  of  the  work-house  to  which  our  readers 
have  been  already  introduced  as  the  birthplace  of  Oliver 
Twist,  sat  herself  down  before  a  cheerful  fire  in  her  own 
little  room,  and  glanced,  with  no  small  degree  of  compla- 
cency, at  a  small  round  table,  on  which  stood  a  tray  of  cor? 


170  OLIVER  TWIST. 

responding  size,  furnished  with  all  necessary  materials  fot 
the  most  grateful  meal  that  matrons  enjoy.  In  fact,  Mrs. 
Corney  was  about  to  solace  herself  with  a  cup  of  tea  As 
she  glanced  from  the  table  to  the  fire-place,  where  the  small- 
est of  all  possible  kettles  was  singing  a  small  song  in  a  small 
voice,  her  inward  satisfaction  evidently  increased — so  much 
so,  indeed,  that  Mrs.  Corney  smiled. 

"  Well  !  "  said  the  matron,  leaning  her  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  looking  reflectively  at  the  fire  ;  "  I'm  sure  we  have  all 
on  us  a  great  deal  to  be  grateful  for  !  A  great  deal,  if  wc 
did  but  know  it.     Ah  !  " 

Mrs.  Corney  shook  her  head  mournfully,  as  if  deploring 
the  mental  blindness  of  those  paupers  who  did  not  know  it  ; 
and  thrusting  a  silver  spoon  (private  property)  into  the  in- 
most recesses  of  a  two-ounce  tin  tea-caddy,  proceeded  to 
make  the  tea. 

How  slight  a  thing  will  disturb  the  equanimity  of  our 
frail  minds  !  The  black  tea-pot,  being  very  small  and  easily 
filled,  ran  over  while  Mrs.  Corney  was  moralizing,  and  the 
water  slightly  scalded  Mrs.  Corney's  hand. 

"  Drat  the  pot !  "  said  the  worthy  matron,  setting  it  down 
very  hastily  on  the  hob  :  "  a  little  stupid  thing,  that  only 
holds  a  couple  of  cups  !  What  use  is  it  of  to  any  body  ! 
Except,"  said  Mrs.  Corney,  pausing,  "  except  to  a  poor  des- 
olate creature  like  me.     Oh  dear  !  " 

With  these  words,  the  matron  dropped  into  her  chair,  and, 
once  more  resting  her  elbow  on  the  table,  thought  of  her 
solitary  fate.  The  small  tea-pot,  and  the  single  cup,  had 
awakened  in  her  mind  sad  recollections  of  Mr.  Corney  (who 
had  not  been  dead  more  than  five-and-twenty  years)  ;  and 
she  was  overpowered. 

"  I  shall  never  get  another  !  "  said  Mrs.  Corney,  pettishly  ; 
"  I  shall  never  get  another — like  him  !  " 

Whether  this  remark  bore  reference  to  the  husband,  or  the 
tea-pot,  is  uncertain.  It  might  have  been  the  latter ;  for 
Mrs.  Corney  looked  at  it  as  she  spoke  ;  and  took  it  up  after- 
ward. She  had  just  tasted  her  first  cup,  when  she  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  soft  tap  at  the  room-door. 

"  Oh,  come  in  with  you  ! "  said  Mrs.  Corney,  sharply. 
"  Some  of  the  old  women  dying,  I  suppose.  They  always 
die  when  I'm  at  meals.  Don't  stand  there  letting  the  cold 
-air  in,  don't.     What's  amiss  now,  eh  ?  " 

"Nothing,  ma'am,  nothing,"  replied  a  man's  voice. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  171 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  matron,  in  a  much  sweeter  tone, 
"  is  that  Mr.  Bumble  ?  " 

•■  At  your  service,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  who  had 
been  stopping  outside  to  rub  his  shoes  clean,  and  to  shake 
the  snow  off  his  coat  ;  and  who  now  made  his  appearance, 
bearing  the  cocked  hat  in  one  hand  and  a  bundle  in  the 
other.     "  Shall  I  shut  the  door,  ma'am  ?  " 

The  lady  modestly  hesitated  to  reply,  lest  there  should  be 
any  impropriety  in  holding  an  interview  with  Mr.  Bumble 
with  closed  doors.  Mr.  Bumble,  taking  advantage  of  the 
hesitation,  and  being  very  cold  himself,  shut  it  without  per- 
mission. 

"Hard  weather,  Mr.  Bumble,"  said  the  matron. 

"  Hard,  jndeed,  ma'am,"  replied  the  beadle.  "Antiporo- 
chial  weather  this,  ma'am.  We  have  given  away,  Mrs.  Corney, 
we  have  given  away  a  matter  of  twenty  quartern  loaves  and 
a  cheese  and  a  half,  this  very  blessed  afternoon  ;  and  yet 
them  paupers  are  not  contented." 

"Of  course  not.  When  would  they  be,  Mr.  Bumble?" 
said  the  matron,  sipping  her  tea. 

"  When,  indeed,  ma'am  ?  "  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble.  "  Why 
here's  one  man  that,  in  consideration  of  his  wife  and  large 
family,  has  a  quartern  loaf  and  a  good  pound  of  cheese, 
full  weight.  Is  he  grateful,  ma'am  ?  Is  he  grateful  ?  Not 
a  copper  farthing's  worth  of  it  !  What  does  he  do,  ma'am, 
but  ask  for  a  few  coals  ;  if  it's  only  a  pocket-handkerchief 
full,  he  says  !  Coals  !  What  would  he  do  with  coals  ?  Toast 
his  cheese  with  'em,  and  then  come  back  for  more.  That's 
the  way  with  these  people,  ma'am  ;  give  'em  a  apron-full  of 
coals  to-day,  and  they'll  come  back  for  another  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  as  brazen  as  alabaster  !  " 

The  matron  expressed  her  entire  concurrence  in  this  in- 
telligible simile  ;  and  the  beadle  went  on, 

"  I  never,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  "  see  any  thing  like  the  pitch 
it's  got  to.  The  day  afore  yesterday,  a  man — you  have  been 
a  married  woman,  ma'am,  and  I  may  mention  it  to  you — a 
man,  with  hardly  a  rag  upon  his  back  (here  Mrs.  Corney 
looked  at  the  floor),  goes  to  our  overseer's  door  when  he  has 
got  company  coming  to  dinner  ;  and  says,  he  must  be  re- 
lieved, Mrs.  Corney.  As  he  wouldn't  go  away,  and  shocked 
the  company  very  much,  our  overseer  sent  him  out  a  pound 
of  potatoes  and  half  a  pint  of  oatmeal.  '  My  heart !  !  says 
the  ungrateful  villain,  •  what's  the  use  of  this  to  me  ?    You 


172  OLIVER  TWIST. 

might  as  well  give  me  a  pair  of  iron  spectacles!'  'Very 
good/  says  our  overseer,  taking  'em  away  again,  '  you  won't 
get  any  thing  else  here.'  '  Then  I'll  die  in  the  street  !  '  says 
the  vagrant.     '  Oh  no,  you  won't,'  says  our  overseer." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  That  was  very  good  !  So  like  Mr.  Grannett, 
wasn't  it  ?  "  interposed  the  matron.     "  Well,  Mr.  Eumble  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  rejoined  the  beadle,  "  he  went  away  ;  and 
he  did  die  in  the  streets.  There's  a  obstinate  pauper  for 
you  !  " 

"  It  beats  any  thing  I  could  have  believed,"  observed  the 
matron,  emphatically.  "  But  don't  you  think  out-of-door 
relief  a  very  bad  thing,  any  way,  Mr.  Bumble  ?  You're  a 
gentleman  of  experience,  and  ought  to  know.     Come." 

"  Mrs.  Corney,"  said  the  beadle,  smiling  as  men  smile  who 
are  conscious  of  superior  information,  "  out-of-door  relief, 
properly  managed,  ma'am — is  the  porochial  safeguard.  The 
great  principle  of  out-of-door  relief  is,  to  give  the  paupers 
exactly  what  they  don't  want ;  and  then  they  get  tired  of 
coming." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Corney.  "Well,  that  is  a 
good  one,  too  !  " 

"Yes.  Betwixt  you  and  me,  ma'am,"  returned  Mr.  Bum- 
ble, "  that's  the  great  principle  ;  and  that's  the  reason  why, 
if  you  look  at  any  cases  that  get  into  them  owdacious  news- 
papers, you'll  always  observe  that  sick  families  have  been  re- 
lieved with  slices  of  cheese.  That's  the  rule  now,  Mrs. 
Corney,  all  over  the  country.  But,  however,"  said  the  beadle, 
stopping  to  unpack  his  bundle, "  these  are  official  secrets, 
ma'am  ;  not  to  be  spoken  of  ;  except,  as  I  may  say,  among 
the  porochial  officers,  such  as  ourselves.  This  is  the  port- 
wine,  ma'am,  that  the  board  ordered  for  the  infirmary  ;  real, 
fresh,  genuine  port-wine  ;  only  out  of  the  cask  this  fore- 
noon ;  clear  as  a  bell,  and  no  sediment  !  " 

Having  held  the  first  bottle  up  to  the  light,  and  shaken  it 
well  to  test  its  excellence,  Mr.  Bumble  placed  them  both  on 
the  top  of  a  chest  of  drawers  ;  folded  the  handkerchief  in 
which  they  had  been  wrapped  ;  put  it  carefully  in  his  pocket; 
and  took  up  his  hat,  as  if  to  go. 

u  You'll  have  a  very  cold  walk,  Mr.  Bumble,"  said  the 
matron. 

"  It  blows,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  turning  up  his 
coat-collar,  "  enough  to  cut  one's  ears  off." 

The  matron  looked  from  the  little  kettle  to  the  beadle, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  173 

who  was  moving  toward  the  door;  and  as  the  beadle  coughed, 
preparatory  to  bidding  her  good-night,  bashfully  inquired 
whether — whether  he  wouldn't  take  a  cup  of  tea  ? 

Mr.  Bumble  instantaneously  turned  back  his  collar  again  ; 
laid  his  hat  and  stick  upon  a  chair  ;  and  drew  another  chair 
up  to  the  table.  As  he  slowly  seated  himself,  he  looked  at 
the  lady.  She  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  little  tea-pot.  Mr. 
Bumble  coughed  again,  and  slightly  smiled. 

Mrs.  Corney  rose  to  get  another  cup  and  saucer  from  the 
closet.  As  she  sat  down,  her  eyes  once  again  encountered 
those  of  the  gallant  beadle  :  she  colored,  and  applied  her- 
self to  the  task  of  making  his  tea.  Again  Mr.  Bumble 
coughed — louder  this  time  than  he  had  coughed  yet. 

"  Sweet,  Mr.  Bumble  ?  "  inquired  the  matron,  taking  up  the 
sugar-basin. 

"  Very  sweet  indeed,  ma'am'  replied  Mr.  Bumble.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  Mrs.  Corney  as  he  said  this  ;  and  if  ever 
a  beadle  looked  tender,  Mr.  Bumble  was  that  beadle  at  that 
moment. 

The  tea  was  made  and  handed  in  silence.  Mr.  Bumble, 
having  spread  a  handkerchief  over  his  knees  to  prevent  the 
crumbs  from  sullying  the  splendor  of  his  shorts,  began  to  eat 
and  drink  ;  varying  these  amusements,  occasionally,  by  fetch- 
ing a  deep  sigh  ;  which,  however,  had  no  injurious  effect 
upon  his  appetite,  but,  on  the  contrary,  rather  seemed  to 
facilitate  his  operations  in  the  tea-and-toast  department. 

"  You  have  a  cat,  ma'am,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  glanc- 
ing at  one  who,  in  the  center  of  her  family,  was  basking  be- 
fore the  fire  ;  "  and  kittens  too,  I  declare  !  " 

*  I  am  so  fond  of  them,  Mr.  Bumble,  you  can't  think," 
replied  the  matron.  "  They're  so  happy,  so  frolicsome,  and 
so  cheerful,  that  they  are  quite  companions  for  me." 

"  Very  nice  animals,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  ap- 
provingly ;  "  so  very  domestic." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  rejoined  the  matron  with  enthusiasm  ;  "  so 
fond  of  their  home  too,  that  it's  quite  a  pleasure,  I'm  sure." 

"Mrs.  Corney,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  slowly,  and 
marking  the  time  with  his  tea-spoon,  "  I  mean  to  say  this, 
ma'am  ;  that  any  cat,  or  kitten,  that  could  live  with  you, 
ma'am,  and  not  be  fond  of  its  home,  must  bean  ass,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bumble  !  "  remonstrated  Mrs.  Corney. 

"  It's  of  no  use  disguising  facts,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bumble, 
slowly  flourishing  the  tea-spoon  with  a  kind  of   amorous 


174  OLIVER  TWIST. 

dignity  which  made  him  doubly  impressive ;  "  I  would 
drown  it  myself  with  pleasure." 

"  Then  you're  a  cruel  man,"  said  the  matron  vivaciously, 
as  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the  beadle's  cup  ;  "  and  a  very 
hard-hearted  man  besides." 

"  Hard-hearted,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bumble.  "  Hard  ?  "  Mr. 
Bumble  resigned  his  cup  without  another  word  ;  squeezed 
Mrs.  Corney's  little  finger  as  she  took  it ;  and  inflicting  two 
open-handed  slaps  upon  his  laced  waistcoat,  gave  a  mighty 
sigh,  and  hitched  his  chair  a  very  little  morsel  further  from 
the  fire. 

It  was  a  round  table  ;,  and  Mrs.  Corney  and  Mr.  Bumble 
had  been  sitting  opposite  each  other,  with  no  great  space 
between  them,  and  fronting  the  fire,  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr. 
Bumble,  in  receding  from  the  fire  and  still  keeping  at  the 
table,  increased  the  distance  between  himself  and  Mrs.  Cor- 
ney ;  which  proceeding  some  prudent  readers  will  doubtless 
be  disposed  to  admire,  and  to  consider  an  act  of  great  heroism 
on  Mr.  Bumble's  part  :  he  being  in  some  sort  tempted  by 
time,  place,  and  opportunity,  to  give  utterance  to  certain  soft 
nothings,  which,  however  well  they  may  become  the  lips  of 
the  light  and  thoughtless,  do  seem  immeasurably  beneath  the 
dignity  of  judges  of  the  land,  members  of  Parliament,  min- 
isters of  state,  lord  mayors,  and  other  great  public  function- 
aries, but  more  particularly  beneath  the  stateliness  and 
gravity  of  a  beadle,  who  (as  is  well  known)  should  be  the 
sternest  and  most  inflexible  among  them  all. 

Whatever  were  Mr.  Bumble's  intentions,  however  (and  no 
doubt  they  were  of  the  best),  it  unfortunately  happened,  as  has 
been  twice  before  remarked,  that  the  table  was  around  one  ; 
consequently  Mr.  Bumble,  moving  his  chair  little  by  little, 
soon  began  to  diminish  the  distance  between  himself  and 
the  matron  ;  and,  continuing  to  travel  round  the  outer  edge 
of  the  circle,  brought  his  chair,  in  time,  close  to  that  in  which 
the  matron  was  seated.  Indeed,  the  two  chairs  touched  ; 
and  when  they  did  so,  Mr.  Bumble  stopped. 

Now,  if  the  matron  had  moved  her  chair  to  the  right,  she 
would  have  been  scorched  by  the  fire  ;  and  if  to  the  left,  she 
must  have  fallen  into  Mr.  Bumble's  arms  ;  so  (being  a  discreet 
matron,  and  no  doubt  foreseeing  these  consequences  at  a 
glance)  she  remained  where  she  was,  and  handed  Mr.  Bum- 
ble another  cup  of  tea. 

"  Hard-hearted,   Mrs.  Corney  ? "    said  Mr.  Bumble,  *tir- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  175 

ring  his  tea,  and  looking  up  into  the  matron's  face  ;  "  are 
you  hard  hearted,  Mrs.  Corney  ?  " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  matron,  "  what  a  very  curi- 
ous question  from  a  single  man  !  What  can  you  want  to  know 
for,  Mr.  Bumble  ?  " 

The  beadle  drank  his  tea  to  the  last  drop  ;  finished  a 
piece  of  toast ;  whisked  the  crumbs  off  his  knees  ;  wiped  his 
lips  ;  and  deliberately  kissed  the  matron. 

"  Mr.  Bumble  !  "  cried  that  discreet  lady  in  a  whisper  ; 
for  the  fright  was  so  great,  that  she  had  quite  lost  her  voice  ; 
"Mr.  Bumble,  I  shall  scream!"  Mr.  Bumble  made  no 
reply  ;  but  in  a  slow  and  dignified  manner  put  his  arms 
round  the  matron's  waist. 

As  the  lady  had  stated  her  intention  of  screaming,  of 
course  she  would  have  screamed  at  this  additional  boldness, 
but  that  the  exertion  was  rendered  unnecessary  by  a  hasty 
knocking  at  the  door  :  which  was  no  sooner  heard,  than 
Mr.  Bumble  darted,  with  much  agility,  to  the  wine  bottles, 
and  began  dusting  them  with  great  violence,  while  the  mat- 
ron sharply  demanded  who  was  there.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark,  as  a  curiotts  physical  instance  of  the  efficacy  of  a  sud- 
den surprise  in  counteracting  the  effects  of  extreme  fear, 
that  her  voice  had  quite  recovered  all  its  official  asperity. 

"  If  you  please,  mistress,"  said  a  withered  old  female  pau- 
per, hideously  ugly,  putting  her  head  in  at  the  door,  "  Old 
Sally  is  a-going  fast." 

"  Well,  what's  that  to  me  ?•"  angrily  demanded  the  matron. 
"  I  can't  keep  her  alive,  can  I  ? " 

"  No,  no,  mistress,"  replied  the  old  woman,  "nobody  can  ; 
she's  far  beyond  the  reach  of  help.  I've  seen  a  many  people 
die — little  babes  and  great  strong  men—  and  I  know  when 
death's  a-coming  well  enough.  But  she's  troubled  in  her 
mind  ;  and  when  the  fits  are  not  on  her — and  that's  not  often, 
for  she  is  dying  very  hard — she  says  she  has  got  something 
to  tell  which  you  must  hear.  She'll  never  die  quiet  till  you 
come,  mistress." 

At  this  intelligence,  the  worthy  Mrs.  Corney  muttered  a 
variety  of  invectives  against  old  women  who  couldn't  even 
die  without  purposely  annoying  their  betters  ;  and  muffling 
herself  in  a  thick  shawl  which  she  hastily  caught  up,  briefly 
requested  Mr.  Bumble  to  stay  till  she  came  back,  lest  any 
thing  particular  should  occur.  Bidding  the  messenger  walk 
fast,  and  not  be  all  night  hobbling  up  the  stairs,  she  followed 


176  OLIVER     TWIST. 

her  from  the  room  with  a  very  ill  grace,  scolding  all  the 
way. 

Mr.  Bumble's  conduct  on  being  left  to  himself  was  rather 
inexplicable.  He  opened  the  closet,  counted  the  tea-spoons, 
weighed  the  sugar-tongs,  closely  inspected  a  silver  milk-pot 
to  ascertain  that  it  was  of  the  genuine  metal  and,  having 
satisfied  his  curiosity  on  these  points,  put  on  his  cocked  hat 
corner-wise,  and  danced  with  much  gravity  four  distinct 
times  round  the  table.  Having  gone  through  this  very  extra- 
ordinary performance,  he  took  off  the  cocked  hat  again,  and, 
spreading  himself  before  the  fire  with  his  back  toward  it, 
seemed  to  be  mentally  engaged  in  taking  an  exact  inventory 
of  the  furniture. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

TREATS    OF    A    VERY    POOR     SUBJECT,    BUT    IS    A    SHOKT    ONE, 
AND    MAY    BE    FOUND    OF    IMPORTANCE    IN    THIS    HISTORY. 

It  was  no  unfit  messenger  of  death  who  had  disturbed 
the  quiet  of  the  matron's  room.  Her  body  was  bent  by  age  ; 
her  limbs  trembled  with  palsy  ;  her  face,  distorted  into  a 
mumbling  leer,  resembled  more  the  grotesque  shaping  of 
some  wild  pencil  than  the  work  of  Nature's  hand. 

iVlas  !  how  few. of  Nature's  faces  are  left  alone,  to  gladden 
us  with  their  beauty  !  The  cares,  and  sorrows,  and  hunger- 
ings,  of  the  world,  change  them  as  they  change  hearts  ;  and 
it  is  only  when  those  passions  sleep,  and  have  lost  their  hold 
forever,  that  the  troubled  clouds  pass  off,  and  leave  Heav- 
en's surface  clear.  It  is  a  common  thing  for  the  counte- 
nances of  the  dead,  even  in  that  fixed  and  rigid  state,  to 
subside  into  the  long  forgotten  expression  of  sleeping  infancy, 
and  settle  into  the  very  look  of  early  life.  So  calm,  so  peace- 
ful, do  they  grow  again,  that  those  who  knew  them  in  their 
happy  childhood,  kneel  by  the  coffin's  side  in  awe,  and  see 
the  Angel  even  upon  earth. 

The  old  crone  tottered  along  the  passages,  and  up  the 
stairs,  muttering  some  indistinct  answers  to  the  chidings  of 
her  companion.  Being  at  length  compelled  to  pause  for 
breath,  she  gave  the  light  into  her  hand,  and  remained  be- 
hind to  follow  as  she  niight ;  while  the  more  nimble  superior 
made  her  way  to  the  room  where  the  sick  woman  lay. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  177 

It  was  a  bare  garret-room,  with  a  dim  light  burning  at  the 
further  end.  There  was  another  old  woman  watching  by  the 
bed  ;  the  parish  apothecary's  apprentice  was  standing  by 
the  fire,  making  a  toothpick  out  of  a  quill. 

"  Cold  night,  Mrs.  Corney,'~  said  this  young  gentleman, 
as  the  matron  entered. 

"  Very  cold,  indeed,  sir,"  replied  the  mistress,  in  her  most 
civil  tones,  and  dropping  a  courtesy  as  she  spoke. 

"You  should  get  better  coals  out  of  your  contractors," 
said  the  apothecary's  deputy,  breaking  a  lump  on  the  top  of 
the  fire  with  the  rusty  poker  ; '  "  these  are  not  at  all  the  sort 
of  thing  for  a  cold  night." 

■■■  They're  the  board  s  choosing,  sir,"  returned  the  matron. 
"  The  least  they  could  do  would  be  to  keep  us  pretty  warm  ; 
for  our  places  are  hard  enough." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  moan  from 
the  sick  woman. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  the  young  man,  turning  his  face  toward  the 
bed,  as  if  he  had  previously  quite  forgotten  the  patient,  "  it's 
all  U  P  there,  Mrs.  Corney." 

"  It  is,  is  it,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  matron. 

"  If  she  lasts  a  couple  of  hours,  I  shall  be  surprised,"  said 
the  apothecary's  apprentice,  intent  upon  the  tooth-pick's 
point.  "It's  a  break-up  of  the  system  altogether.  Is  she 
dozing,  old  lady  ?  " 

The  attendant  stooped  over  the  bed,  to  ascertain,  and  nod- 
ded in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  perhaps  she'll  go  off  in  that  way,  if  you  don't  make 
a  row,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Put  the  light  on  the  floor. 
She  won't  see  it  there." 

The  attendant  did  as  she  was  told,  shaking  her  head  mean- 
while, to  intimate  that  the  woman  would  not  die  so  easily  ; 
having  done  so,  she  resumed  her  seat  by  the  side  of  the  other 
nurse,  who  had  by  this  time  returned.  The  mistress,  with 
an  expression  of  impatience,  wrapped  herself  in  her  shawl, 
and  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

The  apothecary's  apprentice,  having  completed  the  manu- 
facture of  the  tooth-pick,  planted  himself  in  front  of  the 
fire,  and  made  good  use  of  it  for  ten  minutes  or  so  :  when 
apparently  growing  rather  dull,  he  wished  Mrs.  Corney  joy 
of  her  job,  and  took  himself  off  on  tiptoe. 

When  they  had  sat  in  silence  for  some  time,  the  two  old 
women  rose  from  the  bed,  and,  crouching  over  the  fire,  held 


178  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Qut  their  withered  hands  to  catch  the  heat.  The  flame  threw 
a  ghastly  light  on  their  shriveled  faces,  and  made  their  ugli- 
ness appear  terrible,  as,  in  this  position,  they  began  to  con- 
verse in  a  low  voice. 

"  Did  she  say  any  more,  Anny  dear,  while  I  was  gone  ?  " 
inquired  the  messenger. 

"  Not  a  word,"  replied  the  other.  "  She  plucked  and 
tore  at  her  arms  for  a  little  time  ;  but  I  held  her  hands,  and 
she  soon  dropped  off.  She  hasn't  much  strength  in  her,  so 
I  easily  kept  her  quiet.  I  ain't  so  weak  for  an  old  woman, 
although  I  am  on  parish  allowance  ;  no,  no  !  " 

"  Did  she  drink  the  hot  wine  the  doctor  said  she  was  to 
have  ?"  demanded  the  first.        k 

"I  tried  to  get  it  down,"  rejoined  the  other.  "  But  her 
teeth  were  tight  set,  and  she  clenched  the  mug  so  hard  that 
it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  get  it  back  again.  So  1 
drank  it  ;  and  it  did  me  good." 

Looking  cautiously  round,  to  ascertain  that  they  were  not 
overheard,  the  two  hags  cowered  nearer  to  the  fire,  and 
chuckled  heartily. 

"I  mind  the  time,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "when  she 
would  have  done  the  same,  and  made  rare  fun  of  it  afterward." 

"Ay,  that  she  would,"  rejoined  the  other  ;  "she  had  a 
merry  heart.  A  many,  many  beautiful  corpses  she  laid  out, 
as  nice  and  neat  as  wax-work.  My  old  eyes  have  seen  them 
— ay,  and  hose  old  hands  touched  them  too  ;  for  I  have 
helped  her  scores  of  times." 

Stretching  forth  her  trembling  fingers  as  she  spoke,  the 
old  creature  shook  them  exultingly  before  her  face,  and 
fumbling  in  her  pocket,  brought  out  an  old  time-discolored 
tin  snuff-box,  from  which  she  shook  a  few  grains  into  the 
outstretched  palm  of  her  companion,  and  a  few  more  into 
her  own.  While  they  were  thus  employed,  the  matron,  who 
had  been  impatiently  watching  until  the  dying  woman  should 
awaken  from  her  stupor,  joined  them  by  the  fire,  and  sharply 
asked  how  long  she  was  to  wait  ? " 

"  Not  long,  mistress,"  replied  the  second  woman,  looking 
up  into  her  face.  "  We  have  none  of  us  long  to  wait  for 
death.  Patience,  patience  !  He'll  be  here  soon  enough  for 
us  all." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  doting  idiot  !  "  said  the  matron, 
sternly.  "  You,  Martha,  tell  me  ;  has  she  been  in  this  way 
before  ? " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  179 

"  Often,"  answered  the  first  woman. 

"  But  will  never  be  again,"  added  the  second  one  ;  "  that 
is,  she'll  never  wake  again  but  once — and  mind,  mistress, 
that  won't  be  for  long  !  " 

"  Long  or  short,"  said  the  matron,  snappishly,  "  she  won't 
find  me  here  when  she  does  wake  ;  take  care,  both  of  you, 
how  you  worry  me  again  for  nothing.  It's  no  part  of  my 
duty  to  see  all  the  old  women  in  the  house  die,  and  I  won't 
— that's  more.  Mind  that,  you  impudent  old  harridans  !  If 
you  make  a  fool  of  me  again,  I'll  soon  cure  you,  I  warrant 
you  ! " 

She  was  bouncing  away,  when  a  cry  from  the  two  women, 
who  had  turned  toward  the  bed,  caused  her  to  look  round. 
The  patient  had  raised  herself  upright,  and  was  stretching 
her  arms  toward  them. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  she  cried,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  said  one  of  the  women,  stooping  over  her. 
"  Lie  down,  lie  down  !  " 

"  I'll  never  lie  down  again  alive  !  "  said  the.  woman,  strug- 
gling. "  I  will  tell  her  !  Come  here  !  Nearer  !  Let  me  whis- 
per in  your  ear." 

She  clutched  the  matron  by  the  arm,  and  forcing  her  into 
a  chair  by  the  bedside,  was  about  to  speak,  when,  looking 
round,  she  caught  sight  of  the  two  old  women  bending  for- 
ward in  the  attitude  of  eager  listeners. 

"  Turn  them  away,"  said  the  woman,  drowsily  ;  "  make 
haste  !  make  haste  !  " 

The  two  old  crones,  chiming  in  together,  began  pouring 
out  many  piteous  lamentations  that  the  poor  dear  was  too 
far  gone  to  know  her  best  friends  ;  and  were  uttering  sun- 
dry protestations  that  they  would  never  leave  her,  when  the 
superior  pushed  them  from  the  room,  closed  the  door,  and 
returned  to  the  bedside.  On  being  excluded,  the  old  ladies 
changed  their  tone,  and  cried  through  the  key-hole  that  old 
Sally  was  drunk  ;  which,  indeed,  was  not  unlikely  ;  since, 
in  addition  to  a  moderate  dose  of  opium  prescribed  by  the 
apothecary,  she  was  laboring  under  the  effects  of  a  final 
taste  of  gin-and-water  which  had  been  privily  administered, 
in  the  openness  of  their  hearts,  by  the  worthy  old  ladies 
themselves. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  said  the  dying  woman  aloud,  as  if 
making  a  great  effort  to  revive  one  latent  spark  of  energy. 
"In  this  very  room — in  this   very  bed — I  once  nursed  a 


180  OLIVER  TWIST. 

pretty  young  creetur  that  was  brought  into  the  house  with 
her  feet  cut  and  bruised  with  walking,  and  all  soiled  with 
dust  and  blood.  ■  She  gave  birth  to  a  boy,  and  died.  Let 
me  think — what  was  the  year  again  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  the  year,"  said  the  impatient  auditor  ; 
"  what  about  her  ?  " 

"Ay,"  murmured  the  sick  woman,  relapsing  into  her  for- 
mer drowsy  state, "  what  about  her  ? — what  about — I  know  !  " 
she  cried,  jumping  fiercely  up  ;  her  face  flushed,  and  her 
eyes  starting  from  her  head — <l  I  robbed  her,  so  I  did  !  She 
wasn't  cold — I  tell  you  she  wasn't  cold,  when  I  stole 
it  !" 

"  Stole  what,  for  God's  sake  ?  "  cried  the  matron,  with  a 
gesture  as  if  she  would  call  for  help. 

"ft/"  replied  the  woman,  laying  her  handover  the 
other's  mouth.  "  The  only  thing  she  had.  She  wanted 
clothes  to  keep  her  warm,  and  food  to  eat  ;  but  she  had 
kept  it  safe,  and  had  it  in  her  bosom.  It  was  gold,  I  tell 
you  !  Rich  gold,  that  might  have  saved  her  life  !  " 

"  Gold  !  "  echoed  the  matron,  bending  eagerly  over  the 
woman  as  she  fell  back.  "  Go  on,  go  on — yes — what  of  it  ? 
Who  was  the  mother  ?  When  was  it  ? " 

"  She  charged  -me  to  keep  it  safe,"  replied  the  woman 
with  a  groan,  "and  trusted  me  as  the  only  woman  about  her. 
1  stole  it  in  my  heart  when  she  first  showed  it  me  hanging 
round  her  neck  ;  and  the  child's  death,  perhaps,  is  on  me 
besides  !  They  would  have  treated  him  better  if  they  had 
known  it  all  !  " 

"  Known  what  ?  "  asked  the  other.     "  Speak  !  " 

"  The  boy  grew  so  like  his  mother,"  said  the  woman, 
rambling  on,  and  not  heeding  the  question,  "  that  I  could 
never  forget  it  when  I  saw  his  face.  Poor  girl !  poor  girl  ! 
She  was  so  young,  too  !  Such  a  gentle  lamb  !  Wait  ;  there's 
more  to  tell.     I  have  not  told  you  all,  have  I  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  matron,  inclining  her  head  to  catch 
the  words,  as  they  came  more  faintly  from  the  dying  woman. 
"  Be  quick,  or  it  may  be  too  late  !  " 

"The  mother,"  said  the  woman,  making  a  more  violent 
effort  than  before  ;  "  the  mother,  when  the  pains  of  death 
first  came  upon  her,  whispered  in  my  ear  that  if  her  baby 
was  born  alive,  and  thrived,  the  day  might  come  when  it 
would  not  feel  so  much  disgraced  to  hear  its  poor  young 
mother  named.     *  And  oh,  kind  heaven  I '  she  said,  folding 


OLIVER  TWIST.  181 

her  thin  hands  together,  '  whether  it  be  boy  or  girl,  raise  up 
some  friends  for  it  in  this  troubled  world,  and  take  pity 
upon  a  lonely,  desolate  child,  abandoned  to  its  mercy  ! '  " 

"  The  boy's  name  ?  "  demanded  the  matron. 

"  They  called  him  Oliver,"  replied  the  woman,  feebly. 
"  The  gold  I  stole  was — " 

"  Yes,  yes — what  ?  "  cried  the  other. 

She  was  bending  eagerly  over  the  woman  to  hear  her  re- 
ply ;  but  drew  back,  instinctively,  as  she  once  again  rose, 
slowly  and  stiffly,  into  a  sitting  posture  ;  then,  clutching  the 
coverlet  with  both  hands',   muttered  some  indistinct  sounds 

in  her  throat,  and  fell  lifeless  on  the  bed. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

"  Stone  dead  !  "  said  one  of  the  old  women,  hurrying  in 
as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened. 

"  And  nothing  to  tell,  after  all,"  rejoined  the  matron,  walk- 
ing carelessly  away. 

The  two  crones,  to  all  appearance  too  busily  occupied  in 
the  preparations  for  their  dreadful  duties  to  make  any  reply, 
were  left  alone,  hovering  about  the  body. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

WHEREIN     THIS     HISTORY     REVERTS     TO      MR.     FAGIN      AND 
COMPANY. 

While  these  things  were  passing  in  the  country  work- 
house, Mr.  Fagin  sat  in  the  old  den — the  same  from  which 
Oliver  had  been  removed  by  the  girl — brooding  over  a  dull, 
smoky  fire.  He  held  a  pair  of  bellows  upon  his  knee,  with 
which  he  had  apparently  been  endeavoring  to  rouse  it  into 
more  cheerful  action  ;  but  he  had  fallen  into  deep  thought  ; 
and  with  his  arms  folded  on  them,  and  his  chin  resting  on 
his  thumbs,  fixed  his  eyes  abstractedly  on  the  rusty 
bars. 

At  a  table  behind  him  sat  the  Artful  Dodger,  Master 
Charles  Bates,  and  Mr.  Chitling,  all  intent  upon  a  game  of 
whist ;  the  Artful  taking  dummy  against  Master  Bates  and 
Mr.  Chitling.  The  countenance  of  the  first-named  gentle- 
man, peculiarly  intelligent  at  all  times,  acquired  great  addi- 
tional interest  from  his  close  observance  of  the  game,  and 


i82  OLIVER  TWIST. 

his  attentive  perusal  of  Mr.  Chitling's  hand  ;  upon  which, 
from  time  to  time,  as  occasion  served,  he  bestowed  a  variety 
of  earnest  glances  ;  wisely  regulating  his  own  play  by  the  re- 
sult of  his  observations  upon  his  neighbor's  cards.  It  being 
a  cold  night,  the  Dodger  wore  his  hat,  as,  indeed,  was  often 
his  custom  within  doors.  He  also  sustained  a  clay  pipe  be- 
tween his  teeth,  which  he  only  removed  for  a  brief  space 
when  he  deemed  it  necessary  to  apply  for  refreshment  to  a 
quart  pot  upon  the  table,  which  stood  ready  filled  with  gin- 
and-water  for  the  accommodation  of  the  company. 

Master  Bates  was  also  attentive  to  the  play  ;  but  being,  of 
a  more  excitable  nature  than  his  accomplished  friend,  it  was 
observable  that  he  more  frequently  applied  himself  to  the 
gin-and-water,  and  moreover  indulged  in  many  jests  and  ir- 
relevant remarks,  all  highly  unbecoming  a  scientific  rubber. 
Indeed,  the  Artful,  presuming  upon  their  close  attachment, 
more  than  once  took  occasion  to  reason  gravely  with  his 
companion  upon  these  improprieties  ;  all  of  which  remon- 
strances Master  Bates  received  in  extremely  good  part  ; 
merely  requesting  his  friend  to  be  "  blowed,"  or  to  insert  his 
head  in  a  sack,  or  replying  with  some  other  neatly-turned 
witticism  of  a  similar  kind,  the  happy  application  of  which 
excited  considerable  admiration  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Chitling. 
It  was  remarkable  that  the  latter  gentleman  and  hi*  partner 
invariably  lost  ;  and  that  the  circumstance,  so  far  from  an- 
gering Master  Bates,  appeared  to  afford  him  the  highest 
amusement,  inasmuch  as  he  laughed  most  uproariously  at 
the  end  of  every  deal,  and  protested  that  he  had  never 
seen  such  a  jolly  game  in  all  his  born  days. 

"  That's  two  doubles  and  the  rub,"  said  Mr.  Chitling,  with 
a  very  long  face,  as  he  drew  half  a  crown  from  his  waistcoat- 
pocket.  "  I  never  see  such  a  feller  as  you,  Jack  ;  you  win 
every  thing.  Even  when  we've  good  cards,  Charley  and  I 
can't  make  nothing  of  'em." 

Either  the  matter  or  the  manner  of  this  remark,  which 
was  made  very  ruefully,  delighted  Charley  Bates  so  much, 
that  his  consequent  shout  of  laughter  roused  the  Jew  from 
his  reverie,  and  induced  him  to  inquire  what  was  the  mat- 
ter. 

"  Matter,  Fagin  !  "  cried  Charley.  "  I  wish  you  had 
watched  the  play.  Tommy  Chitling  hasn't  won  a  point ; 
and  I  went  partners  with  him  against  the  Artful  and 
dum." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  183 

"  Ay,  ay  !  "  said  the  Jew,  with  a  grin,  which  sufficiently 
demonstrated  that  he  was  at  no  loss  to  understand  the  rea- 
son.    "  Try  'em  again,  Tom  ;  try  'em  again." 

"  No  more  of  it  for  me,  thankee,  Fagin,"  replied  Mr.  Chit- 
ling  ;  "  I've  had  enough.  That  'ere  Dodger  has  such  a  run 
of  luck  that  there's  no  standing  again'  him." 

"Ha  !  ha  !  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew,  "you  must  get  up 
very  early  in  the  morning  to  win  against  the  Dodger." 

"Morning!"  said  Charley  Bates  ;  "you  must  put  your 
boots  on  over-night,  and  have  a  telescope  at  each  eye,  and 
a  opera-glass  between  your  shoulders,  if  you  want  to  come 
over  him." 

Mr.  Dawkins  received  these  handsome  compliments  with 
much  philosophy,  and  offered  to  cut  any  gentleman  in  com- 
pany, for  the  first  picture-card,  at  a  shilling  a  time.  Nobody 
accepting  the  challenge,  and  his  pipe  being  by  this  time 
smoked  out,  he  proceeded  to  amuse  himself  by  sketching  a 
ground-plan  of  Newgate  on  the  table  with  the  piece  of  chalk 
which  had  served  him  in  lieu  of  counters  ;  whistling  mean- 
time, with  peculiar  shrillness. 

"  How  precious  dull  you  are,  Tommy  !  "  said  the  Dodger, 
stopping  short  when  there  had  been  a  long  silence,  and  ad- 
dressing Mr.  Chitling.  "  What  do  you  think  he's  thinking 
of,  Fagin  ? " 

"  How  should  I  know,  my  dear  ? "  replied  the  Jew,  look- 
ing round  as  he  plied  the  bellows.  "  About  his  losses,  may- 
be ;  or  the  little  retirement  in  the  country  that  he's  just  left, 
eh  ?     Ha  !  ha  !  Is  that  it,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  the  Dodger,  stopping  the  sub- 
ject of  discourse  as  Mr.  Chitling  was  about  to  reply.  "  What 
&o  you  say,  Charley  ?  " 

"  /  should  say,"  replied  Master  Bates,  with  a  grin,  "  that 
he  was  uncommon  sweet  upon  Betsy.  See  how  he's  a- 
blushing  !  Oh,  my  eye  !  here's  a  merry  go-rounder  !  Tommy 
Chitling's  in  love  !  Oh,  Fagin,  Fagin  !  what  a  spree  !  " 

Thoroughly  overpowered  with  the  notion  of  Mr.  Chitling 
being  the  victim  of  the  tender  passion,  Master  Bates  threw 
himself  back  in  his  chair  with  such  violence  that  he  lost  his 
balance  and  pitched  over  upon  the  floor,  where  (the  acci- 
dent abating  nothing  of  his  merriment)  he  lay  at  full  length 
until  his  laugh  was  over,  when  he  resumed  his  former  posi- 
tion, and  began  another  laugh. 

"  Never  mind  him,  my  dear,'1  said  the  Jew,  winking  at 


1 84  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Mr.  Dawkins,  and  giving  Master  Bates  a  reproving  tap  with 
the  nozzle  of  the  bellows.  "  Betsy's  a  fine  girl.  Stick  up 
to  her,  Tom.     Stick  up  to  her." 

"What  I  mean  to  say,  Fagin,"  replied  Mr.  Chiding,  very 
red  in  the  face,  "is,  that  that  isn't  any  thing  to  any  body 
here." 

"  No  more  it  is,"  replied  the  Jew  ;  "  Charley  will  talk. 
Don't  mind  him,  my  dear  ;  don't  mind  him.  Betsy's  a  fine 
girl.  Do  as  she  bids  you,  Tom,  and  you'll  make  your 
fortune." 

"So  I  do  do  as  she  bids  me,"  replied  Mr.  Chitling  ;  "I 
shouldn't  have  been  milled,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her  advice. 
But  it  turned  out  a  good  job  for  you,  didn't  it,  Fagin  ?  And 
what's  six  weeks  of  it  ?  It  must  come,  some  time  or  another, 
and  why  not  in  the  winter-time,  when  you  don't  want  to  go 
out  a-walking  so  much  ;  eh,  Fagin  ? " 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"You  wouldn't  mind  it  again,  Tom,  would  you,"  asked 
the  Dodger,  winking  upon  Charley  and  the  Jew,  "  if  Bet 
was  all  right  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  I  shouldn't,"  replied  Tom,  angrily. 
"  There  now.  Ah  !  Who'll  say  as  much  as  that,  I  should 
like  to  know  ;  eh,  Fagin  ? " 

"  Nobody,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew  ;  "not  a  soul,  Tom. 
I  don't  know  one  of  'em  that  would  do  it  besides  you  ;  not 
one  of  'em,  my  dear." 

"  I  might  have  got  clear  off,  if  I'd  split  upon  her  ; 
mightn't  I,  Fagin?"  angrily  pursued  the  poor  half-witted 
dupe.  "  A  word  from  me  would  have  done  it ;  wouldn't  it, 
Fagin?" 

"  To  be  sure  it  would,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"But  I  didn't  blab  it;  did  I,  Fagin?"  demanded  Tom, 
pouring  question  upon  question  with  great  volubility. 

"No,  no,  to  be  sure,"  replied  the  Jew,  "you  were  too 
stout-hearted  for  that.     A  deal  too  stout,  my  dear  !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  was,"  rejoined  Tom,  looking  round  ;  "  and  if 
I  was,  what's  to  laugh  at  in  that  ;  eh,  Fagin  ? " 

The  Jew,  perceiving  that  Mr.  Chitling  was  considerably 
roused,  hastened  to  assure  him  that  nobody  was  laughing  ; 
and  to  prove  the  gravity  of  the  company,  appealed  to  Mas- 
ter Bates,  the  principal  offender.  But,  unfortunately, 
Charley,  in  opening  his  mouth  to  reply  that  he  was  never 
more  serious  in  his  life,  was  unable  to  prevent  the  escape  of 


OLIVER  TWIST.  185 

such  a  violent  roar,  that  the  abused  Mr.  Chitling,  without 
any  preliminary  ceremonies,  rushed  across  the  room  and 
aimed  a  blow  at  the  offender,  who,  being  skillful  in  evading 
pursuit,  ducked  to  avoid  it,  and  chose  his  time  so  well  that 
it  lighted  on  the  chest  of  the  merry  old  gentleman,  and 
caused  him  to  stagger  to  the  wall,  where  he  stood  panting 
for  breath,  while  Mr.  Chitling  looked  on  in  intense  dismay. 

"  Hark  !  "  cried  the  Dodger  at  this  moment,  "  I  heard  the 
tinkler."     Catching  up  the  light,  he  crept  softly  up  stairs. 

The  bell  was  rung  again,  with  some  impatience,  while  the 
party  were  in  darkness.  After  a  short  pause,  the  Dodger 
reappeared,  and  whispered  Fagin  mysteriously. 

"  What  !  "  cried  the  Jew,  "  alone  ?  " 

The  Dodger  nodded  in  the  affirmative,  and  shading  the 
flame  of  the  candle  with  his  hand,  gave  Charley  Bates  a 
private  intimation,  in  dumb  show,  that  he  had  better  not  be 
funny  just  then.  Having  performed  this  friendly  office,  he 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  Jew's  face,  and  awaited  his  directions. 

The  old  man  bit  his  yellow  fingers,  and  meditated  for 
some  seconds  ;  his  face  working  with  agitation  the  while,  as 
if  he  dreaded  something,  and  feared  to  know  the  worst.  At 
length  he  raised  his  head. 

"  Where  is  he  ? "  he  asked. 

The  Dodger  pointed  to  the  floor  above,  and  made  a  ges- 
ture, as  if  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Jew,  answering  the  mute  inquiry  ;  "  bring 
him  down.     Hush  !  Quiet,  Charley  !   Gently,  Tom  !  Scarce, 


scarce 


This  brief  direction  to  Charley  Bates,  and  his  recent  an- 
tagonist, was  softly  and  immediately  obeyed.  There  was 
no  sound  of  their  whereabout  when  the  Dodger  descended 
the  stairs,  bearing  the  light  in  his  hand,  and  followed 
by  a  man  in  a  coarse  smock-frock,  who,  after  casting  a 
hurried  glance  around  the  room,  pulled  off  a  large  wrap- 
per which  had  concealed  the  lower  portion  of  his  face,  and 
disclosed,  all  haggard,  unwashed,  and  unshorn,  the  features 
of  flash  Toby  Crackit. 

"  How  are  you,  Faguey  ? "  said  this  worthy,  nodding  to 
the  Jew.  "  Pop  that  shawl  away  in  my  castor,  Dodger,  so 
that  I  may  know  where  to  find  it  when  I  cut ;  that's  the 
time  of  day  !  You'll  be  a  fine  young  cracksman  afore  the 
old  file  now." 

With   these  words  he  pulled   up  the   smock-frock,  and, 


1 86  OLIVER  TWIST. 

winding  it  round  his  middle,  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire,  and 
placed  his  feet  upon  the  hob. 

"See  there,  Faguey,"  he  said,  pointing  disconsolately  to 
his  top-boots  ;  "  not  a  drop  of  Day  and  Martin  since,  you 
know  when  ;  not  a  bubble  of  blacking,  by  Jove  !  But  don't 
look  at  me  in  that  way,  man.  All  in  good  time.  I  can't 
talk  about  business  till  I've  eat  and  drank  ;  so  produce  the 
sustainance,  and  let's  have  a  quiet  fill-out  for  the  first  time 
these  three  days  !  " 

The  Jew  motioned  to  the  Dodger  to  place  what  eatables 
there  were  upon  the  table,  and,  seating  himself  opposite  the 
house-breaker,  waited  his  leisure. 

To  judge  from  appearances,  Toby  was  by  no  means  in  a 
hurry  to  open  tnc  conversation.  At  first  the  Jew  contented 
himself  with  patien.'iy  watching  his  countenance,  as  if  to 
gain  from  its  expression  some  clue  to  the  intelligence  he 
brought ;  but  in  vain.  He  looked  tired  and  worn,  but  there 
was  the  same  complacent  repose  upon  his  features  that  they 
always  wore  ;  and  through  dirt,  and  beard,  and  whisker, 
there  still  shone,  unimpaired,  the  self-satisfied  smirk  of 
flash  Toby  Crackit.  Then  the  Jew,  in  an  agony  of  im- 
patience, watched  every  morsel  he  put  into  his  mouth,  pac- 
ing up  and  down  the  room,  meanwhile,  in  irrepressible  ex- 
citement. It  was  all  of  no  use.  Toby  continued  to  eat, 
with  the  utmost  outward  indifference,  until  he  could  eat  no 
more  ;  then,  ordering  the  Dodger  out,  he  closed  the  door, 
mixed  a  glass  of  spirits-and-water,  and  composed  himself 
for  talking. 

"  First  and  foremost,  Faguey — "  said  Toby. 

"Yes,  yes !  "  interposed  the  Jew,  drawing  up  his  chair. 

Mr.  Crackit  stopped  to  take  a  draught  of  spirits-and- 
water,  and  to  declare  that  the  gin  was  excellent  ;  then, 
placing  his  feet  against  the  low  mantel-piece,  so  as  to  bring 
his  boots  to  about  the  level   of  his  eye,  he  quietly  resumed. 

"  First  and  foremost,  Faguey,"  said  the  housebreaker, 
"how's  Bill?" 

"  What !  "  screamed  the  Jew,  starting  from  his  seat. 

"  Why  you  don't  mean  to  say — "  began  Toby,  turning 
pale. 

"  Mean  ! "  cried  the  Jew,  stamping  furiously  on  the 
ground.  "  Where  are  they — Sikes  and  the  boy  ?  Where 
are  they  ?  Where  have  they  been  ?  Where  are  they  hid- 
ing ?    Why  have  they  not  been  here  I " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  1S7 

"  The  crack  failed,"  said  Toby,  faintly. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  Jew,  tearing  a  newspaper  from 
his  pocket,  and  pointing  to  it.     "  What  more  ? " 

u  They  fired  and  hit  the  boy.  WTe  cut  over  the  fields  at 
the  back  with  him  between  us — straight  as  the  crow  flies — 
through  hedge  and  ditch.  They  gave  chase.  Damme  !  the 
whole  country  was  awake,  and  the  dogs  upon  us." 

"  The  boy  ?  " 

"  Bill  had  him  on  his  back,  and  scudded  like  the  wind. 
We  stopped  to  take  him  between  us  ;  his  head  hung  down, 
and  he  was  cold.  They  were  close  upon  our  heels  ;  every 
man  for  himself,  and  each  from  the  gallows  !  We  parted 
company,  and  left  the  youngster  lying  in  the  ditch.  Alive 
or  dead,  that's  all  I  know  about  him." 

The  Jew  stopped  to  hear  no  more  ;  but  uttering  a  loud 
yell,  and  twining  his  hands  in  his  hair,  rushed  from  the  room 
and  from  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IN  WHICH  A  MYSTERIOUS  CHARACTER  APPEARS  UPON  THE 
SCENE  ;  AND  MANY  THINGS  INSEPARABLE  FROM  THIS 
HISTORY    ARE    DONE    AND    PERFORMED. 

The  old  man  had  gained  the  street  corner  before  he  began 
to  recover  the  effect  of  Toby  Crackit's  intelligence.  He 
had  relaxed  nothing  of  his  unusual  speed,  but  was  still 
pressing  onward,  in  the  same  wild  and  disordered  manner, 
when  the  sudden  dashing  past  of  a  carriage,  and  a  boister- 
ous cry  from  the  foot-passengers,  who  saw  his  danger,  drove 
him  back  upon  the  pavement.  Avoiding  as  much  as  pos- 
sible all  the  main  streets,  and  skulking  only  through  the  by- 
ways and  alleys,  he  at  length  emerged  on  Snow  Hill.  Here 
he  walked  even  faster  than  before  ;  nor  did  he  linger  until 
he  had  again  turned  into  a  court,  when,  as  if  conscious  that 
he  was  now  in  his  proper  element,  he  fell  into  his  usual 
shuffling  pace,  and  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely. 

Near  to  the  spot  on  which  Snow  Hill  and  Holborn  Hill 
meet,  there  opens,  upon  the  right  hand  as  you  come  out  of 
the  City,  a  narrow  and  dismal  alley  leading  to  Saffron  Hill. 
In   its  filthy  shops   are  exposed  for  sale  huge  bunches   of 


188  OLIVER  TWIST. 

second-hand  silk  handkerchiefs,  of  all  sizes  and  patterns ; 
for  here  reside  the  traders  who  purchase  them  from  pick- 
pockets. Hundreds  of  these  handkerchiefs  hang  dangling 
from  pegs  outside  the  windows  or  flaunting  from  the  door- 
posts ;  and  the  shelves  within  are  piled  with  them.  Con- 
fined as  the  limits  of  Field  Lane  are,  it  has  its  barber,  its 
coffee-shop,  its  beer-shop,  and  its  fried-fish  warehouse.  It 
is  a  commercial  colony  of  itself  :  the  emporium  of  petty  lar- 
ceny :  visited  at  early  morning,  and  setting-in  of  dusk,  by 
silent  merchants,  who  traffic  in  dark  back-parlors,  and  who 
go  as  strangely  as  they  come.  Here  the  clothesman,  the 
shoe-vamper,  and  the  rag-merchant,  display  their  goods  as 
sign-boards  to  the  petty  thief ;  here  stores  of  old  iron  and 
bones,  and  heaps  of  mildewy  fragments  of  woolen-stuff  and 
linen,  rust  and  rot  in  the  grimy  cellars. 

It  was  into  this  place  that  the  Jew  turned.  He  was  well 
known  to  the  sallow  denizens  of  the  lane  ;  for  such  of  them 
as  were  on  the  look-out  to  buy  or  sell,  nodded  familiarly 
as  he  passed  along.  He  replied  to  their  salutations  in  the 
same  way,  but  bestowed  no  closer  recognition  until  he 
reached  the  further  end  of  the  alley,  when  he  stopped  to 
address  a  salesman  of  small  stature,  who  had  squeezed  as 
much  of  his  person  into  a  child's  chair  as  the  chair  would 
hold,  and  was  smoking  a  pipe  at  his  warehouse  door. 

"Why,  the  sight  of  you,  Mr.  Fagin,  would  cure  the  hop- 
talmy  !  "  said  this  respectable  trader,  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  Jew's  inquiry  after  his  health. 

"  The  neighborhood  was  a  little  too  hot,  Lively,"  said 
Fagin,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  and  crossing  his  hands  upon 
his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  I've  heerd  that  complaint  of  it  once  or  twice  be- 
fore," replied  the  trader,  "but  it  soon  cools  down  again; 
don't  you  find  it  so  ?  " 

Fagin  nodded  in  the  affirmative.  Pointing  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Saffron  .Hill,  he  inquired  whether  any  one  was  up 
yonder  to-night. 

"  At  the  Cripples  ?  "  inquired  the  man. 

The  Jew  nodded. 

"  Let  me  see,"  pursued  the  merchant,  reflecting.  Yes, 
there's  some  half  dozen  of  'em  gone  in,  that  I  knows.  I. 
don't  think  your'friend's  there." 

"  Sikes  is  not,  I  suppose  ? "  inquired  the  Jew,  with  a  dis- 
appointed countenance. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  189 

"  Non  tstwentus,  as  the  lawyers  say,"  replied  the  little 
man,  shaking  his  head,  and  looking  amazingly  sly.  "  Have 
you  got  any  thing  in  my  line  to-night  ?  " 

"  Nothing  to-night,"  said  the  Jew,  turning  away. 

"Are you  going  to  The  Cripples,  Fagin  ? "cried  the  little 
man,  calling  after  him.  "  Stop  !  I  don't  mind  if  I  have  a 
drop  there  with  you." 

But  as  the  Jew,  looking  back,  waved  his  hand  to  intimate 
that  he  preferred  being  alone,  and,  moreover,  as  the  little 
man  could  not  very  easily  disengage  himself  from  the  chair, 
the  sign  of  The  Cripples  was  for  a  time  bereft  of  the  advant- 
age of  Mr.  Lively's  presence.  By  the  time  he  had  got 
upon  his  legs  the  Jew  had  disappeared ;  so  Mr.  Lively, 
after  ineffectually  standing  on  tiptoe,  in  the  hope  of  catch- 
ing sight  of  him,  again  forced  him  into  the  little  chair,  and 
exchanging  a  shake  of  the  head  with  a  lady  in  the  opposite 
shop,  in  which  doubt  and  mistrust  were  plainly  mingled, 
resumed  his  pipe  with  a  grave  demeanor. 

The  Three  Cripples,  or  rather  The  Cripples,  which  was 
the  sign  by  which  the  establishment  was  familiarly  known  to 
its  patrons,  was  the  public  house  in  which  Mr.  Sikes  and  his 
dog  have  already  figured.  Merely  making  a  sign  to  a  man 
at  the  bar,  Fagin  walked  straight  up  stairs,  and  opening  the 
door  of  a  room,  and  softly  insinuating  himself  into  the  cham- 
ber, looked  anxiously  about — shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
as  if  in  search  of  some  particular  person. 

The  room  was  illuminated  by  two  gas-lights  ;  the  glare  of 
which  was  prevented,  by  the  barred  shutters  and  closely 
drawn  curtains  of  faded  red,  from  being  visible  outside.  The 
ceiling  was  blackened,  to  prevent  its  color  from  being  injur- 
ed by  the  flaring  of  the  lamps  ;  and  the  place  was  so  full  of 
dense  tobacco  smoke,  that  at  first  it  was  scarcely  possible  to 
discern  any  thing  more.  By  degrees,  however,  as  some  of 
it  cleared  away  through  the  open  door,  an  assemblage  of 
heads,  as  confused  as  the  noises  that  greeted  the  ear,  might 
be  made  out  ;  and,  as  the  eye  grew  more  accustomed  to  the 
scene,  the  spectator  gradually  became  aware  of  the  presence 
of  a  numerous  company,  male  and  female,  crowded  round 
a  long  table,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  sat  a  chairman,  with 
a  hammer  of  office  in  his  hand  ;  while  a  professional  gentle- 
man, with  a  bluish  nose,  and  his  face  tied  up  for  the  benefit 
of  a  toothache,  presided  at  a  jingling  piano  in  a  remote  cor- 
ner. 


i9o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

As  Fagin  stepped  softly  in,  the  professional  gentleman, 
lunning  over  the  keys  by  way  of  prelude,  occasioned  a  gen- 
eral cry  of  order  for  a  song  ;  which  having  subsided,  a  young 
lady  proceeded  to  entertain  the  company  with  a  ballad  in 
four  verses,  between  each  of  which  the  accompanist  played 
the  melody  all  through,  as  loud  as  he  could.  When  this  was 
over,  the  chairman  gave  a  sentiment,  after  which  the  pro- 
fessional gentlemen  on  the  chairman's  right  and  left  volun- 
teered a  duet,  and  sang  it  with  great  applause. 

It  was  curious  to  observe  some  faces  which  stood  out 
prominently  from  among  the  group.  There  was  the  chair- 
man himself  (the  landlord  of  the  house),  a  coarse,  rough, 
heavy-built  fellow,  who,  while  the  songs  were  proceeding, 
rolled  his  eyes  hither  and  thither,  and,  seeming  to  give  him- 
self up  to  joviality,  had  an  eye  for  every  thing  that  was  done, 
and  an  ear  for  every  thing  that  was  said — and  sharp  ones,  too. 
Near  him  were  the  singers,  receiving  with  professional  indif- 
ference the  compliments  of  the  company,  and  applying 
themselves,  in  turn,  to  a  dozen  proffered  glasses  of  spirits- 
and-water,  tendered  by  their  more  boisterous  admirers,  whose 
countenances,  expressive  of  almost  every  vice,  in  almost 
every  grade,  irresistibly  attracted  the  attention  by  their  very 
repulsiveness.  Cunning,  ferocity,  and  drunkenness  in  all  its 
stages,  were  therein  their  strongest  aspects;  and  women,  some 
with  the  last  lingering  tinge  of  their  early  freshness  almost 
fading  as  you  looked  ;  others  with  every  mark  and  stamp  of 
their  sex  utterly  beaten  out,  and  presenting  but  one  loath- 
some blank  of  profligacy  and  crime  ;  some  mere  girls,  others 
but  young  women,  and  none  past  the  prime  of  life  ;  formed 
the  darkest  and  saddest  portion  of  this  dreary  picture. 

Fagin,  troubled  by  no  grave  emotions,  looked  eagerly  from 
face  to  face  while  these  proceedings  were  in  progress,  but 
apparently  without  meeting  that  of  which  he  was  in  search. 
Succeeding  at  length  in  catching  the  eye  of  the  man  who  oc- 
cupied the  chair,  he  beckoned  him  slightly,  and  left  the  room 
&s  quietly  as  he  had  entered  it. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Fagin  ?  "  inquired  the  man 
as  he  followed  him  out  to  the  landing.  "  VVon't  you  join 
us  ?     They'll  be  delighted,  every  one  of  'em." 

The  Jew  shook  his  head  impatiently,  and  said,  in  a  whis« 
per,  "  Is  he  here  ?  " 

N  V  replied  the  man. 

"  And  no  news  of  Barney,"  inquired  Fagin, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  191 

J  None,"  replied  the  landlord  of  The  Cripples  ;  for  it  was 
he.  "  He  won't  stir  till  it's  all  safe.  Depend  on  it,  they're 
on  the  scent  down  there  ;  and  if  he  moved,  he'd  blow  upon 
the  thing  at  once.  He's  all  right  enough,  Barney  is,  else  I 
should  have  heard  of  him.  I'll  pound  it,  that  Barney's  man- 
aging properly.     Let  him  alone  for  that !  " 

"  Will  he  be  here  to-night  ?  "  asked  the  Jew,  laying  the 
same  emphasis  on  the  pronoun  as  before. 

"  Monks,  do  you  mean?"  inquired  the  landlord  hesita- 
ting. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  Jew.     "  Yes." 

"  Certain,"  replied  the  man,  drawing  a  gold  watch  from 
his  fob;  "  I  expected  him  before  now.  If  you'll  wait  ten  min- 
utes, he'll  be — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  Jew,  hastily  ;  as  though,  however  de- 
sirous he  might  be  to  see  the  person  in  question,  he  was 
nevertheless  relieved  by  his  absence.  "  Tell  him  I  came 
here  to  see  him  ;  and  that  he  must  come  to  me  to-night. 
No,  say  to-morrow.  As  he  is  not  here,  to-morrow  will  be 
time  enough." 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  man.     "  Nothing  more  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  now,"  said  the  Jew,  descending  the  stairs. 

"  I  say,"  said  the  other,  looking  over  the  rails,  and  speak- 
ing in  a  hoarse  whisper  ;  "  what  a  time  this  would  be  for  a 
sell !  I've  got  Phil  Barker  here,  so  drunk  that  a  boy  might 
take  him." 

"  Aha  !  But  it's  not  Phil  Barker's  time,"  said  the  Jew, 
looking  up.  "  Phil  has  something  more  to  do  before  we 
can  afford  to  part  with  him  ;  so  go  back  to  the  company 
my  dear,  and  tell  them  to  lead  merry  lives — while  they  last. 
"Ha!  Ha!  Ha!" 

The  landlord  reciprocated  the  old  man's  laugh,  and  return- 
ed to  his  guests.  The  Jew  was  no  sooner  alone,  than  his 
countenance  resumed  its  former  expression  of  anxiety  and 
thought.  After  a  brief  reflection,  he  called  a  hack  cabriolet, 
and  bade  the  man  drive  toward  Bethnal  Green.  He  dis- 
missed him  within  some  quarter  of  a  mile  of  Mr.  Sikes's  res- 
idence, and  performed  the  short  remainder  of  the  distance 
on  foot. 

"  Now,"  muttered  the  Jew,  as  he  knocked  at  the  door,  "  if 
there  is  any  deep  play  here,  I  shall  have  it  out  of  you,  ray 
girl,  cunning  as  you  are." 

She   was   in   her   room,  the   woman   said.     Fagin   crept 


192  OLIVER  TWIST. 

softly  up  stairs,  and  entered  it  without  any  previous  cere- 
mony. 

The  girl  was  alone  ;  lying  with  her  head  upon  the  table, 
and  her  hair  straggling  over  it. 

"She  has  been  drinking,"  thought  the  Jew,  coolly,  "or 
perhaps  she  is  only  miserable." 

The  old  man  turned  to  close  the  door  as  he  made  this  re- 
flection ;  the  noise  thus  occasioned  roused  the  girl.  She 
eyed  his  crafty  face  narrowly  as  he  inquired  whether  there  was 
any  news,  and  as  she  listened  to  his  recital  of  Toby  Crackit's 
story.  When  it  was  concluded,  she  sank  into  her  former  at- 
titude, but  spoke  not  a  word.  She  pushed  the  candle  impa- 
tiently away  ;  and  once  or  twice,  as  she  feverishly  changed 
her  position,  shuffled  her  feet  upon  the  ground  ;  but  this 
was  all. 

During  the  silence,  the  Jew  looked  restlessly  about  the 
room,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  there  was  no  appearance 
of  Sikes  having  covertly  returned.  Apparently  satisfied 
with  his  inspection,  he  coughed  twice  or  thrice,  and  made 
as  many  efforts  to  open  a  conversation  ;  but  the  girl  heeded 
him  no  more  than  if  he  had  been  made  of  stone.  At  length 
he  made  another  attempt  ;  and  rubbing  his  hands  together, 
said,  in  his  most  conciliatory  tone, 

"  And  where  should  you  think  Bill  was  now,  my 
dear." 

The  girl  moaned  out  some  half  intelligible  reply  that  she 
could  not  tell ;  and  seemed,  from  the  smothered  noise  that 
escaped  her,  to  be  crying. 

"And  the  boy,  too,"  said  the  Jew,  straining  his  eye  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  face.  "  Poor  leetle  child  !  Left  in  a 
ditch,  Nance  ;  only  think  !  " 

"The  child  !  "  said  the  girl,  suddenly  looking  up,  "is 
better  where  he  is  than  among  us  ;  and  if  no  harm  comes  to 
Bill  from  it,  I  hope  he  lies  dead  in  the  ditch,  and  that  his 
young  bones  may  rot  there." 

"  What  !  "  cried  the  Jew,  in  amazement. 

"  Ay,  I  do,"  returned  the  girl,  meeting  his  gaze.  "  I  shall 
be  glad  to  have  him  away  from  my  eyes,  and  to  know  that 
the  worst  is  over.  I  can't  bear  to  have  him  about  me.  The 
sight  of  him  turns  me  against  myself,  and  all  of  you." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  the  Jew,  scornfully.     "  You're  drunk." 

"Am  I  ?"  cried  the  girl,  bitterly.  "It's  no  fault  of  yours, 
if  I  am  not  I     You'd  never  have  me  any  thing  else,  if  you  had 


OLIVER  TWIST.  [93 

your  will,  except  now  ; — the  humor  doesn't  suit  you,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  No  !  "  rejoined  the  Jew,  furiously.     "  It  does  not." 

"  Change  it,  then  !  "  responded  the  girl,  with  a  laugh. 

"Change  it  1 "  exclaimed  the  Jew,  exasperated  beyond  all 
bounds  by  his  companion's  unexpected  obstinacy,  and  the 
vexation  of  the  night.  "  I  will  change  it  !  Listen  to  me, 
you  drab  !  Listen  to  me,  who  with  six  words  can  strangle 
Sikes  as  surely  as  if  I  had  his  bull's  throat  between  my  fin- 
gers now.  If  he  comes  back,  and  leaves  the  boy  behind  him 
— if  he  gets  off  free,  and,  dead  or  alive,  fails  to  restore  him 
to  me — murder  him  yourself  if  you  would  have  him  escape 
Jack  Ketch.  And  do  it  the  moment  he  sets  foot  in  this  room, 
or,  mind  me,  it  will  be  too  late  ! " 

"  What  is  all  this  ?  "  cried  the  girl,  involuntarily. 

"What  is  it?"  pursued  Fagin,  mad  with  rage.  "When 
the  boy's  worth  hundreds  of  pounds  to  me,  am  I  to  lose  what 
chance  threw  me  in  the  way  of  getting  safely,  through  the 
whims  of  a  drunken  gang  that  I  could  whistle  away  the  lives 
of  ?  And  me  bound,  too,  to  a  born  devil  that  only  wants  the 
will,  and  has  the  power  to,  to — " 

Panting  for  breath,  the  old  man  stammered  for  a  word  ; 
and  in  that  instant  checked  the  torrent  of  his  wrath,  and 
changed  his  whole  demeanor.  A  moment  before,  his  clenched 
hands  had  grasped  the  air,  his  eyes  had  dilated,  and  his 
face  grown  livid  with  passion  ;  but  now  he  shrunk  into  a 
'chair,  and,  cowering  together,  trembled  with  the  apprehen- 
sion of  having  himself  disclosed  some  hidden  villainy. 
After  a  short  silence,  he  ventured  to  look  round  at  his 
companion.  He  appeared  somewhat  reassured,  on  behold- 
ing her  in  the  same  listless  attitude  from  which  he  had  first 
roused  her. 

"  Nancy,  dear  !  "  croaked  the  Jew  in  his  usual  voice.  "  Did 
you  mind  me,  dear  ? " 

"  Don't  worry  me  now,  Fagin  !  "  replied  the  girl,  raising 
her  head  languidly.  "  If  Bill  has  not  done  it  this  time,  he 
will  another.  He  has  done  many  a  good  job  for  you,  and 
will  do  many  more  when  he  can  ;  and  when  he  can't  he  won't ; 
so  no  more  about  that." 

"  Regarding  this  boy,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  rubbing 
the  palms  of  his  hands  nervously  together. 

"  The  boy  must  take  his  chance  with  the  rest,"  interrup- 
ted Nancy,  hastily  ;  "  and  I  say  again,  I  hope  he  is  dead,  and 


i94  OLIVER  TWIST. 

out  of  harm's  way  and  out  of  your's — that  is,  if  Bill  comes 
to  no  harm.  And  if  Toby  got  clear  off,  Bill's  pretty  sure 
to  be  safe  ;  for  Bill's  worth  two  of  Toby  any  time." 

"  And  about  what  I  was  saying,  my  dear  ? "  observed  the 
Jew,  keeping  his  glistening  eye  steadily  upon  her. 

"  You  must  say  it  all  over  again,  if  it's  any  thing  you  want 
me  to  do,"  rejoined  Nancy  ;  "  and  if  it  is,  you  had  better  wait 
till  to-morrow.  You  put  me  up  for  a  minute  ;  but  now  I'm 
stupid  again." 

Fagin  put  several  other  questions,  all  with  the  same  drift 
of  ascertaining  whether  the  girl  had  profited  by  his  unguard- 
ed hints  ;  but  she  answered  them  so  readily,  and  was  withal 
so  utterly  unmoved  by  his  searching  looks,  that  his  original 
impression  of  her  being  more  than  a  trifle  in  liquor  was  con- 
firmed. Nancy,  indeed,  was  not  exempt  from  a  failing  which 
was  very  common  among  the  Jew's  female  pupils  ;  and  in 
which,  in  their  tenderer  years,  they  were  rather  encouraged 
than  checked.  Her  disordered  appearance,  and  a  wholesale 
perfume  of  Geneva  which  pervaded  the  apartment,  afforded 
strong  confirmatory  evidence  of  the  justice  of  the  Jew's  sup- 
position ;  and  when,  after  indulging  in  the  temporary  dis- 
play of  violence  above  described,  she  subsided,  first  into 
dullness,  and  afterward  into  a  compound  of  feelings,  under 
the  influence  of  which  she  shed  tears  one  minute,  and  in  the 
next  gave  utterance  to  various  exclamations  of  "  Never  say 
die ! "  and  divers  calculations  as  to  what  might  be  the 
amount  of  the  odds  so  long  as  a  lady  or  gentleman  was 
happy,  Mr.  Fagin,  who  had  had  considerable  experience  in 
such  matters  in  his  time,  saw,  with  great  satisfaction,  that  she 
was  very  far  gone  indeed. 

Having  eased  his  mind  by  this  discovery  ;  and  having 
accomplished  his  twofold  object  of  imparting  to  the  girl 
what  he  had  that  night  heard,  and  of  ascertaining  with  his 
own  eyes  that  Sikes  had  not  returned,  Mr.  Fagin  again 
turned  his  face  homeward,  leaving  his  young  friend  asleep, 
with  her  head  upon  the  table. 

It  was  within  an  hour  of  midnight.  The  weather  being  dark 
and  piercing  cold,  he  had  no  great  temptation  to  loiter. 
The  sharp  wind  that  scoured  the  streets  seemed  to  have 
cleared  them  of  passengers,  as  of  dust  and  mud,  for  few 
people  were  abroad,  and  they  were  to  all  appearance  hasten- 
ing fast  home.  It  blew  from  the  right  quarter  for  the  Jew, 
however,  and  straight  before  it  he  went,    trembling,  and 


OLIVER  TWIST.  195 

shivering,  as  every  fresh  gust  drove  him  rudely  on  his 
way. 

He  had  reached  the  corner  of  his  own  street,  and  was 
already  fumbling  in  his  pocket  for  the  door-key,  when  a 
dark  figure  emerged  from  a  projecting  entrance  which  lay  in 
deep  shadow,  and,  crossing  the  road,  glided  up  to  him  un- 
perceived. 

"  Fagin  !  "  whispered  a  voice  close  to  his  ear. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Jew,  turning  quickly  round,  "  is  that — " 

"  Yes  !  "  interrupted  the  stranger.  "  I  have  been  linger- 
ing here  these  two  hours.  Where  the  devil  have  you  been?" 

"  On  your  business,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew,  glancing 
uneasily  at  his  companion,  and  slackening  his  pace  as  he 
spoke.     "  On  your  business,  all  night." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  sneer.  "Well ; 
and  what's  come  of  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  good,"  said  the  Jew. 

"  Nothing  bad,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  stranger,  stopping  short 
and  turning  a  startled  look  on  his  companion. 

The  Jew  shook  his  head,  and  was  about  to  reply,  when 
the  stranger,  interrupting  him,  motioned  to  the  house,  before 
which  they  had  by  this  time  arrived  ;  remarking  that  he  had 
better  say  what  he  had  got  to  say  under  cover  ;  for  his 
blood  was  chilled  with  standing  about  so  long,  and  the  wind 
blew  through  him. 

Fagin  looked  as  if  he  could  have  willingly  excused  him- 
self from  taking  home  a  visitor  at  that  unseasonable  hour  ; 
and,  indeed,  muttered  something  about  having  no  fire  ;  but 
his  companion  repeating  his  request  in  a  peremptory  manner, 
he  unlocked  the  door,  and  requested  him  to  close  it  softly, 
while  he  got  a  light. 

"  It's  as  dark  as  the  grave,"  said  the  man,  groping  forward 
a  few  steps.     "  Make  haste  !  " 

"  Shut  the  door,"  whispered  Fagin,  from  the  end  of  the 
passage.     As  he  spoke,  it  closed  with  a  loud  noise. 

"  That  wasn't  my  doing,"  said  the  other  man,  feeling  his 
way.  "  The  wind  blew  it  to,  or  it  shut  of  its  own  accord, 
one  or  the  other.  Look  sharp  with  the  light,  or  I  shall 
knock  my  brains  out  against  something  in  this  confounded 
hole." 

Fagin  stealthily  descended  the  kitchen  stairs.  After  a 
short  absence,  he  returned  with  a  lighted  candle,  and  the 
intelligence  that  Toby  Crackit  was  asleep  in  the  back  room 


i96  OLIVER  TWIST. 

below,  and  that  the  boys  were  in  the  front  one.  Beckoning 
the  man  to  follow  him,  he  led  the  way  up  stairs. 

"  We  can  say  the  few  words  we've  got  to  say  in  here,  my 
dear,"  said  the  Jew,  throwing  open  a  door  on  the  first  floor; 
"  and  as  there  are  holes  in  the  shutters,  and  we  never  show 
lights  to  our  neighbors,  we'll  set  the  candle  on  the  stairs. 
There  !  " 

With  those  words,  the  Jew,  stooping  down,  placed  the 
candle  on  an  upper  flight  of  stairs  exactly  opposite  to  the 
room-door.  This  done,  he  led  the  way  into  the  apartment ; 
which  was  destitute  of  all  movables  save  a  broken  arm-chair, 
and  an  old  couch  or  sofa,  without  covering,  which  stood 
behind  the  door.  Upon  this  piece  of  furniture  the  stranger 
sat  himself  with  the  air  of  a  weary  man  ;  and  the  Jew, 
drawing  up  the  arm-chair  opposite,  they  sat  face  to  face.  It 
was  not  quite  dark  ;  the  door  was  partially  open,  and  the 
candle  outside  threw  a  feeble  reflection  on  the  opposite  wall. 

They  conversed  for  some  time  in  whispers.  Though 
nothing  of  the  conversation  was  distinguishable  beyond  a 
few  disjointed  words  here  and  there,  a  listener  might  easily 
have  perceived  that  Fagin  appeared  to  be  defending  himself 
against  some  remarks  of  the  stranger,  and  that  the  latter 
was  in  a  state  of  considerable  irritation.  They  might  have 
been  talking  thus  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more,  when 
Monks — by  which  name  the  Jew  had  designated  the  strange 
man  several  times  in  the  course  of  their  colloquy — said, 
raising  his  voice  a  little  : 

"  I  tell  you  again,  it  was  badly  planned.  Why  not  have 
kept  him  here  among  the  rest,  and  made  a  sneaking,  snivel- 
ing pickpocket  of  him  at  once  ?  " 

-*  Only  hear  him  !  "  exclaimed  the  Jew,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"  Why,  do  you  mean  to  say  you  couldn't  have  done  it  if 
you  had  chosen  ?  "  demanded  Monks,  sternly.  "  Haven't 
you  done  it  with  other  boys  scores  of  times  ?  If  you  had  had 
patience  for  a  twelvemonth  at  most,  couldn't  you  have  got 
him  convicted,  and  sent  safely  out  of  the  kingdom — perhaps 
for  life  ?  " 

"  Whose  turn  would  that  have  served,  my  dear  ?  "  in- 
quired the  Jew,  humbly. 

"Mine,"  replied  Monks. 

"But  not  mine,"  said  the  Jew,  submissively.  "He 
might  have  become  of  use  to  me.      When    there  are  two 


OLIVER  TWIST.  197 

parties  to  a  bargain,  it  is  only  reasonable  that  the  interests 
of  both  should  be  consulted  ;  is  it,  my  good  friend  ?  " 

"  What  then  ?  "  demanded  Monks. 

"  I  saw  it  was  not  easy  to  train  him  to  the  business,"  re- 
plied the  Jew  ;  "  he  was  not  like  other  boys  in  the  same 
circumstances." 

"  Curse  him,  no  !  "  muttered  the  man,  "  or  he  would  have 
been  a  thief  long  ago." 

"  I  had  no  hold  upon  him  to  make  him  worse,"  pursued 
the  Jew,  anxiously  watching  the  countenance  of  his  com- 
panion. "  His  hand  was  not  in.  I  had  nothing  to  frighten 
him  with  ;  which  we  always  must  have  in  the  beginning,  or 
we  labor  in  vain.  What  could  I  do  ?  Send  him  out  with 
the  Dodger  and  Charley  ?  We  had  enough  of  that  at  first, 
my  dear  ;  I  trembled  for  us  all." 

"  That  was  not  my  doing,"  observed  Monks. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  !  "  renewed  the  Jew.  "  And  I  don't 
quarrel  with  it  now  ;  because,  if  it  had  never  happened,  you 
might  never  have  clapped  eyes  upon  the  boy  to  notice  him, 
and  so  led  to  the  discovery  that  it  was  him  you  were  look- 
ing for.  Well  !  I  got  him  back  for  you  by  means  of  the 
girl  ;  and  then  she  begins  to  favor  him." 

"  Throttle  the  girl  !  "   said  Monks,  impatiently. 

"  Why,  we  can't  afford  to  do  that  just  now,  my  dear," 
replied  the  Jew,  smiling  ;  "and,  besides,  that  sort  of  thing 
is  not  in  our  way  ;  or,  one  of  these  days,  I  might  be  glad  to 
have  it  done.  I  know  what  these  girls  are,  Monks,  well. 
As  soon  as  the  boy  begins  to  harden,  she'll  care  no  more  for 
him  than  for  a  block  of  wood.  You  want  him  made  a  thief. 
If  he  is  alive,  I  can  make  him  one  from  this  time  ;  and  if — 
if — "  said  the  Jew,  drawing  nearer  to  the  other — "  it's  not 
likely,  mind — but  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  and  he  is 
dead — " 

"  It's  no  fault  of  mine  if  he  is  !  "  interposed  the  other 
man,  with  a  look  of  terror,  and  clasping  the  Jew's  arm  with 
arembling  hands.  "  Mind  that,  Fagin  !  I  had  no  hand  in  it. 
Any  thing  but  his  death,  I  told  you  from  the  first.  I  won't' 
•shed  blood  ;  it's  always  found  out,  and  haunts  a  man  be- 
sides. If  they  shot  him  dead,  I  was  not  the  cause  ;  do  you 
hear  me  ?  Fire  this  infernal  den  !  What's  that  ? " 

"What?  "  cried  the  Jew,  grasping  the  coward  round  the 
body  with  both  arms,  as  he  sprung  to  his  feet.     "  Where  ?  " 

"  Yonder  !  "  replied  the  man,  glaring  at  the  opposite  wall. 


198  OLIVER  TWIST. 

u  The  shadow  !  I  saw  the  shadow  of  a  woman,  in  a  cloak 
and  bonnet,  pass  along  the  wainscot  like  a  breath  !  " 

The  Jew  released  his  hold,  and  they  rushed  tumultuously 
trom  the  room.  The  candle,  wasted  by  the  draught,  was 
standing  where  it  had  been  placed.  It  showed  them  only 
the  empty  staircase  and  their  own  white  faces.  They 
listened  intently  :  a  profound  silence  reigned  throughout 
the  house. 

"  It's  your  fancy,"  said  the  Jew,  taking  up  the  light  and 
turning  to  his  companion.  \ 

"  I'll  swear  I  saw  it  !  "  replied  Monks,  trembling.  "  It 
was  bending  forward  when  I  saw  it  first  ;  and  when  I  spoke 
it  darted  away." 

The  Jew  glanced  contemptuously  at  the  pale  face  of  his 
associate,  and  telling  him  he  could  follow  if  he  pleased,  as- 
cended the  stairs.  They  looked  into  all  the  rooms  ;  they 
were  cold,  bare,  and  empty.  They  descended  into  the  pas- 
sage, and  thence  into  the  cellars  below.  The  green  damp 
hung  upon  the  low  walls  ;  the  tracks  of  the  snail  and  slug 
glistened  in  the  light  of  the  candle  ;  but  all  was  still  as 
death. 

"What  do  you  think  now  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  when  they  had 
regained  the  passage.  "  Besides  ourselves,  there's  not  a 
creature  in  the  house  except  Toby  and .  the  boys  ;  and 
they're  safe  enough.     See  here  !  "    • 

As  a  proof  of  the  fact,  the  Jew  drew  forth  two  keys  from 
his  pocket  ;  and  explained,  that  when  he  first  went  down 
stairs  he  had  locked  them  in,  to  prevent  any  intrusion  on 
the  conference. 

This  accumulated  testimony  effectually  staggered  Mr. 
Monks.  His  protestations  had  gradually  become  less  and 
less  vehement  as  they  proceeded  in  their  search  without 
making  any  discovery  ;  and  now  he  gave  vent  to  several 
very  grim  laughs,  and  confessed  it  could  only  have  been  his 
excited  imagination.  He  declined  any  renewal  of  the  con- 
versation, however,  for  that  night,  suddenly  remembering 
that  it  was  past  one  o'clock.  And  so  the  amiable  couple 
parted. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  199 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ATONES    FOR    THE   UNPOLITENESS   OF     A     FORMER     CHAPTER, 
WHICH  DESERTED  A  LADY  MOST  UNCEREMONIOUSLY. 

As  it  would  be  by  no  means  seemly  in  a  humble  author 
to  keep  so  mighty  a  personage  as  a  beadle  waiting,  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  and  the  skirts  of  his  coat  gathered  up  under 
his  arms,  until  such  time  as  it  might  suit  his  pleasure  to  re- 
lieve him  ;  and  as  it  would  still  less  become  his  station  or  his 
gallantry  to  involve  in  the  same  neglect  a  lady  on  whom 
that  beadle  had  looked  with  an  eye  of  tenderness  and  affec- 
tion, and  in  whose  ear  he  had  whispered  sweet  words,  which 
coming  from  such  a  quarter  might  well  thrill  the  bosom  of 
maid  or  matron  of  whatsoever  degree  ;  the  historian  whose  pen 
traces  these  words — trusting  that  he  knows  his  place,  and 
that  he  entertains  a  becoming  reverence  for  those  upon  earth 
to  whom  high  and  important  authority  is  delegated — has- 
tens to  pay  them  that  respect  which  their  position  demands, 
and  to  treat  them  with  all  that  duteous  ceremony  which  their 
exalted  rank,  and  (by  consequence)  great  virtues,  imperatively 
claim  at  his  hands.  Toward  this  end,  indeed,  he  had  purposed 
to  introduce,  in  this  place,  a  dissertation  touching  the  divine 
right  of  beadles,  and  elucidative  of  the  position  that  a  beadle 
can  do  no  wrong  ;  which  could  not  fail  to  have  been  both  pleas- 
urable and  profitable  to  the  right-minded  reader,  but  which 
he  is  unfortunately  compelled,  by  want  of  time  and  space,  to 
postpone  to  some  more  convenient  and  fittingopportunity;  on 
the  arrival  of  which,  he  will  be  prepared  to  show,  that  a  bea- 
dle properly  constituted —  that  is  to  say,  a  parochial  beadle, 
attached  to  a  parochial  work-house,  and  attending  in  his 
official  capacity  the  parochial  church — is,  in  right  and  virtue 
of  his  office,  possessed  of  all  the  excellencies  and  best  quali- 
ties of  humanity  ;  and  that  to  none  of  those  excellencies  can 
mere  companies'  beadles,  or  court-of-law  beadles,  or  even 
chapel-of-ease  beadles  (save  the  last,  and  they  in  a  very 
lowly  and  inferior  degree),  lay  the  remotest  sustainable 
claim. 

Mr.  Bumble  had  re-counted  the  tea-spoons,  re-weighed  the 
sugar-tongs,  made  a  closer  inspection  of  the  milk-pot,  and 
ascertained  to  a  nicety  the  exact  condition  of  the  furniture 
down  to  the  very  horse-hair  seats  of  the  chairs  ;  and  had  re- 


200  OLIVER  TWIST. 

peated  each  process  full  half  a  dozen  times,  before  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  it  was  time  for  Mrs.  Corney  to  return. 
Thinking  begets  thinking  :  as  there  were  no  sounds  of  Mrs. 
Corney's  approach,  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Bumble  that  it  would 
be  an  innocent  and  virtuous  way  of  spending  the  time,  if  he 
were  further  to  allay  his  curiosity  by  a  cursory  glance  at  the 
interior  of  Mrs.  Corney's  chest  of  drawers. 

Having  listened  at  the  key-hole  to  assure  himself  that  nobody 
was  approaching  the  chamber,  Mr.  Bumble,  beginning  at  the 
bottom,  proceeded  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  con- 
tents of  the  three  long  drawers  ;  which,  being  filled  with 
various  garments  of  good  fashion  and  texture,  carefully  pre- 
served between  two  layers  of  old  newspayers,  speckled  with 
dried  lavender,  seemed  to  yield  him  exceeding  satisfaction. 
Arriving,  in  course  of  time,  at  the  right-hand  corner  drawer 
(in  which  was  the  key),  and  beholding  therein  a  small  pad- 
locked box,  which,  being  shaken,  gave  forth  a  pleasant  sound, 
as  of  the  chinking  of  coin,  Mr.  Bumble  returned  with  a 
stately  walk  to  the  fire  place  ;  and,  resuming  his  old  attitude, 
said,  with  a  grave  and  determined  air,  "  I'll  do  it  !  "  He  fol- 
lowed up  this  remarkable  declaration,  by  shaking  his  head  in 
a  waggish  manner  for  ten  minutes,  as  though  he  were  remon- 
strating with  himself  for  being  such  a  pleasant  dog  ; 
and  then  he  took  a  view  of  his  legs,  in  profile,  with  much 
seeming  pleasure  and  interest. 

He  was  still  placidly  engaged  in  this  latter  survey,  when 
Mrs.  Corney,  hurrying  into  the  room,  threw  herself,  in  a 
breathless  state,  on  a  chair  by  the  fireside,  and  covering  her 
eyes  with  one  hand,  placed  the  other  over  her  heart,  and 
gasped  for  breath. 

"  Mrs.  Corney,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  stooping  over  the  mat- 
ron, "  what  is  this,  ma'am  ?  Has  any  thing  happened,  ma'am  ! 
Pray  answer  me.  I'm  on — on — "  Mr.  Bumble,  in  his  alarm, 
could  not  immediately  think  of  the  word  "  tenter-hooks," 
so  he  said  "broken  bottles." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bumble !  "  cried  the  lady,  "  I  have  been  so 
dreadfully  put  out !  " 

"  Put  out,  ma'am  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bumble  ;  "  who  has 
dared  to — ?  I  know  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  checking  himself, 
with  native  majesty,  "  this  is  them  wicious  paupers  !  " 

"  It's  dreadful  to  think  of  ?  "  said  the  lady,  shuddering. 

"  Then  don't  think  of  it,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  whimpered  the  lady. 


ingly. 

«  vr 


OLIVER  TWIST.  201 

"Then  take  something,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  sooth- 
A  little  of  the  wine  ?  " 
Not  for  the  world  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Corney.  "  I  couldn't 
— oh  !  The  top  shelf  in  the  right-hand  corner — oh  !"  Uttering 
these  words,  the  good  lady  pointed,  distractedly,  to  the  cup- 
board, and  underwent  a  convulsion  from  internal  spasms. 
Mr.  Bumble  rushed  to  the  closet  ;  and,  snatching  a  pint 
green  glass  bottle  from  the  shelf,  thus  incoherently  indicated, 
filled  a  tea-cup  with  its  contents,  and  held  it  to  the  lady's  lips. 

"I'm  better  now,"  said  Mrs.  Corney,  falling  back,  after 
drinking  half  of  it. 

Mr.  Bumble  raised  his  eyes  piously  to  the  ceiling  in  thank- 
fulness ;  and,  bringing  them  down  again  to  the  brim  of  the 
cup,  lifted  it  to  his  nose. 

"  Peppermint,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Corney,  in  a  faint  voice, 
smiling  gently  on  the  beadle  as  she  spoke.  "  Try  it !  There's 
a  little — a  little  something  else  in  it." 

Mr.  Bumble  tasted  the  medicine  with  a  doubtful  look  ; 
smacked  his  lips  ;  took  another  taste  ;  and  put  the  cup  down 
empty. 

It's  very  comforting,"  said  Mrs.  Corney. 

"Very  much  so,  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  the  beadle.  As  he 
spoke  he  drew  a  chair  beside  the  matron,  and  tenderly  in- 
quired what  had  happened  to  distress  her. 

Nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Corney.     "  I  am  a  foolish,  excit- 
able, weak  creetur." 

"  Not  weak,  ma'am,"  retorted  Mr.  Bumble,  drawing  his 
chair  a  little  closer.  "  Are  you  a  weak  creetur,  Mrs.  Cor- 
ney ?" 

"  We  are  all  weak  creeturs,"  said  Mrs.  Corney,  laying  down 
a  general  principle. 

"So  we  are,"  said  the  beadle. 

Nothing  was  said,  on  either  side,  for  a  minute  or  two  after- 
ward. By  the  expiration  of  that  time,  Mr.  Bumble  had  illus- 
trated the  position  by  moving  his  left  arm  from  the  back  of 
Mrs.  Corney's  chair,  where  it  had  previously  rested,  to  Mrs. 
Corney's  apron  string,  round  which  it  gradually  became  en- 
twined. 

"We  are  all  weak  creeturs,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

Mrs.  Corney  sighed. 

"  Don't  sigh,  Mrs.  Corney,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Mrs.  Corney.  And  she  sighed 
again. 


202  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  This  is  a  very  comfortable  room,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bum 
ble,  looking  round.  "  Another  room,  and  this,  ma'am,  would 
be  a  complete  thing." 

"  It  would  be  too  much  for  one,"   murmured  the  lady. 

"  But  not  for  two,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble,  in  soft 
accents.     "  Eh,  Mrs.  Corney  ?  " 

Mrs.  Corney  drooped  her  head  when  the  beadle  said  this  ; 
the  beadle  drooped  his,  to  get  a  view  of  Mrs.  Corney's 
face.  Mrs.  Corney,  with  great  propriety,  turned  her  head 
away,  and  released  her  hand  to  get  at  her  pocket-hand- 
kerchief ;  but  insensibly  replaced  it  in  that  of  Mr.  Bum- 
ble. 

"  The  board  allow  you  coals,  don't  they,  Mrs.  Corney  ? " 
inquired  the  beadle,  affectionately  pressing  her  hand. 

?  And  candles,"  replied  Mrs.  Corney,  slightly  returning 
the  pressure. 

"  Coals,  candles,  and  house-rent  free,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Corney,  what  a  angel  you  are  !  " 

The  lady  was  not  proof  against  this  burst  of  feeling. 
She  sank  into  Mr.  Bumble's  arms  ;  and  that  gentleman,  in 
his  agitation,  imprinted  a  passionate  kiss  upon  her  chaste 
nose. 

"  Such  porochial  perfection  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bumble, 
rapturously.  "  You  know  that  Mr.  Slout  is  worse  to-night, 
my  fascinator  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Corney,  bashfully. 

"  He  can't  live  a  week,  the  doctor  says,"  pursued  Mr.  Bum- 
ble. "  He  is  the  master  of  this  establishment  ;  his  death 
will  cause  a  wacancy  :  that  wacancy  must  be  filled  up. 
Oh,  Mrs.  Corney,  what  a  prospect  this  opens  !  What 
a  opportunity  for  a  jining  of  hearts  and  housekeepings  !  " 

Mrs.  Corney  sobbed. 

"The  little  word  ?"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  bending  over  the 
bashful  beauty.  "  The  one  little,  little,  little  word,  my 
blessed  Corney  ? " 

"  Ye — ye — yes  !  "  sighed  out  the  matron. 

"  One  more,"  pursued  the  beadle  ;  "  compose  your  dar- 
ling feelings  for  only  one  more.     When  is  it  to  come  off  ?  " 

Mrs.  Corney  twice  essayed  to  speak,  and  twice  failing,  at 
length  summoning  up  courage,  she  threw  her  arms  round  Mr. 
Bumble's  neck,  and  said  it  might  be  as  soon  as  ever  he 
pleased,  and  that  he  was  "  a  irresistible  duck." 

Matters  being  thus  amicably  and  satisfactorily  arranged, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  203 

the  contract  was  solemnly  ratified  in  another  tea-cupful  of 
the  peppermint  mixture  ;  which  was  rendered  the  more  nec- 
essary by  the  flutter  and  agitation  of  the  lady's  spirits. 
While  it  was  being  disposed  of,  she  acquainted  Mr.  Bumble 
with  the  old  woman's  decease. 

"  Very  good,"  said  that  gentleman,  sipping  his  pepper- 
mint ;  r.  I'll  call  at  Sowerberry's  as  I  go  home,  and  tell  him  to 
send  to-morrow  morning.  Was  it  that  as  frightened  you, 
love  ? " 

"  It  wasn't  any  thing  particlar,  dear,"  said  the  lady,  eva- 
sively. 

"  It  must  have  been  something,  love,"  urged  Mr.  Bumble. 
"  Won't  you  tell  your  own  B.  ?" 

"  Not  now,"  rejoined  the  lady  ;  "  one  of  these  days.  After 
we're  married,  dear." 

"  After  we're  married  !  "  exclaimed  Mr,  Bumble.  "  It 
wasn't  any  impudence  from  any  of  them  male  paupers  as — " 

"  No,  no,  love  !  "  interposed  the  lady,  hastily. 

"  If  I  thought  it  was,"  continued  Mr.  Bumble  ;  "  if  I 
thought  as  any  one  of  'em  had  dared  to  lift  his  wulgar  eyes 
to  that  lovely  countenance — " 

"  They  wouldn't  have  dared  to  do  it,  love,"  responded  the 
lady. 

"  They  had  better  not  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  clenching  his 
fist.  "  Let  me  see  any  man,  porochial  or  extraporochial,  as 
would  presume  to  do  it ;  and  I  can  tell  him  that  he  wouldn't 
do  it  a  second  time  I  " 

Unembellished  by  any  violence  of  gesticulation,  this 
might  have  seemed  no  very  high  compliment  to  the  lady's 
charms  ;  but,  as  Mr.  Bumble  accompanied  the  threat  with 
many  warlike  gestures,  she  was  much  touched  with  this  proof 
of  his  devotion,  and  protested,  with  great  admiration,  that 
he  was  indeed  a  dove. 

The  dove  then  turned  up  his  coat-collar,  and  put  on  his 
cocked  hat  ;  and,  having  exchanged  a  long  and  affectionate 
embrace  with  his  future  partner,  once  again  braved  the  cold 
wind  of  the  night,  merely  pausing,  for  a  few  minutes,  in  the 
male  paupers'  ward,  to  abuse  them  a  little,  with  the  view  of 
satisfying  himself  that  he  could  fill  the  office  of  work-house 
master  with  needful  acerbity.  Assured  of  his  qualifications, 
Mr.  Bumble  left  the  building  with  a  light  heart,  and  bright 
visions  of  his  future  promotion,  which  served  to  occupy  his 
mind  until  he  reached  the  shop  of  the  undertaker. 


204  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Now  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sowerberry  having  gone  out  to  tea  and 
supper,  and  Noah  Claypole  not  being  at  any  time  disposed 
to  take  upon  himself  a  greater  amount  of  physical  exertion 
than  is  necessary  to  a  convenient  performance  of  the  two 
functions  of  eating  and  drinking,  the  shop  was  not  closed, 
although  it  was  past  the  usual  hour  of  shutting  up.  Mr. 
Bumble  tapped  with  his  cane  on  the  counter  several  times  ; 
but,  attracting  no  attention,  and  beholding  a  light  shining 
through  the  glass-window  of  the  little  parlor  at  the  back  of 
the  shop,  he  made  bold  to  peep  in  and  see  what  was  going 
forward  ;  and  when  he  saw  what  was  going  forward,  he  was 
not  a  little  surprised. 

The  cloth  was  laid  for  supper  ;  the  table  was  covered  with 
bread-and-butter,  plates  and  glasses,  a  porter-pot,  and  a 
wine-bottle.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  table  Mr.  Noah  Clay- 
pole  lolled  negligently  in  an  easy-chair,  with  his  legs  thrown 
over  one  of  the  arms,  an  open  clasp-knife  in  one  hand,  and 
a  mass  of  buttered  bread  in  the  other.  Close  beside  him 
stood  Charlotte,  opening  oysters  from  a  barrel,  which  Mr. 
Claypole  condescended  to  swallow  with  remarkable  avidity. 
A  more  than  ordinary  redness  in  the  region  of  the  young 
gentleman's  nose,  and  a  kind  of  fixed  wink  in  his  right  eye, 
denoted  that  he  was  in  a  slight  degree  intoxicated  ;  these 
symptoms  were  confirmed  by  the  intense  relish  with  which 
he  took  his  oysters,  for  which  nothing  but  a  strong  appreci- 
ation of  their  cooling  properties,  in  cases  of  internal  fever, 
could  have  sufficiently  accounted. 

"  Here's  a  delicious  fat  one,  Noah,  dear  !  "  said  Char- 
lotte ;  "try  him,  do  ;  only  this  one." 

"  What  a  delicious  thing  is  a  oyster  !  "  remarked  Mr.  Clay- 
pole, after  he  had  swallowed  it.  "  What  a  pity  it  is,  a  num- 
ber of  'em  should  ever  make  you  feel  uncomfortable  ;  isn't 
it,  Charlotte  ? " 

"  It's  quite  a  cruelty,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  So  it  is,"  acquiesced  Mr.  Claypole.  "  A'n't  yer  fond  of 
oysters  ?" 

"  Not  overmuch,"  replied  Charlotte.  "  I  like  to  see  you 
eat  'em,  Noah  dear,  better  than  eating  'em  myself." 

"  Lor'  !  "  said  Noah,  reflectively  ;  "  how  queer  !  " 

"  Have  another,"  said  Charlotte.  "  Here's  one  with  such 
a  beautiful,  delicate  beard  !  " 

"I  can't  manage  any  more,"  said  Noah.  "I'm  very  sor- 
ry.    Come  here,  Charlotte,  and  I'll  kiss  yer." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  205 

"What !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  bursting  into  the  room.  "  Say 
that  again,  sir." 

Charlotte  uttered  a  scream,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  apron. 
Mr.  Claypole,  Without  making  any  further  change  in  his  posi- 
tion than  suffering  his  legs  to  reach  the  ground,  gazed  at  the 
beadle  in  drunken  terror. 

"  Say  it  again,  you  wile,  owdacious  fellow  !  "  said  Mr. 
Bumble.  "  How  dare  you  mention  such  a  thing,  sir?  And 
how  dare  you  encourage  him,  you  insolent  minx  ?  Kiss  her  !  " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Bumble,  in  strong  indignation.     "  Faugh  !  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it !  "  said  Noah,  blubbering.  She's 
always  a-kissing  of  me,  whether  I  like  it  or  not." 

"  Oh,  Noah  !  "  cried  Charlotte,  reproachfully. 

"  Yer  are  ;  yer  know  yer  are  !  "  retorted  Noah.  "  She's 
always  a-doingof  it,  Mr.  Bumble,  sir  ;  she  chucks  me  under 
the  chin,  please,  sir  ;  and  makes  all  manner  of  love  !  " 

"Silence  !"  cried  Mr.  Bumble  sternly.  "Take  yourself 
down  stairs,  ma'am.  Noah,  you  shut  up  the  shop  ;  say 
another  word  till  your  master  comes  home  at  your  peril  ;  and, 
when  he  does  come  home,  tell  him  that  Mr.  Bumble  said  he 
was  to  send  a  old  woman's  shell  after  breakfast  to-morrow 
morning.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  Kissing  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bumble, 
holding  up  his  hands.  "  The  sin  and  wickedness  of  the 
lower  orders  in  this  porochial  district  is  frightful !  If  Parlia- 
ment don't  take  their  abominable  courses  under  considera- 
tion, this  country's  ruined,  and  the  character  of  the  peasantry 
gone  forever  !  "  With  these  words,  the  beadle  strode,  with 
a  lofty  and  gloomy  air,  from  the  undertaker's  premises. 

And  now  that  we  have  accompanied  him  so  far  on  his  road 
home,  and  have  made  all  necessary  preparations  for  the  old 
woman's  funeral,  let  us  set  on  foot  a  few  inquiries  after  young 
Oliver  Twist,  and  ascertain  whether  he  be  still  lying  in  the 
ditch  where  Toby  Crackit  left  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LOOKS     AFTER     OLIVER,    AND     PROCEEDS    WITH    HIS   ADVEN- 
TURES. 

"Wolves  tear  your  throats!"  muttered  Sikes,  grinding 
his  teeth.  "  I  wish  I  was  among  some  of  you  ;  you'd  howl 
the  hoarser  for  it." 


2O0  OLIVER  TWIST. 

As  Sikes  growled  forth  this  imprecation,  with  the  most 
desperate  ferocity  that  his  desperate  nature  was  capable  ot, 
he  rested  the  body  of  the  wounded  boy  across  his  bended 
knee,  and  turned  his  head,  for  an  instant,  to  look  back  at 
his  pursuers. 

There  was  little  to  be  made  out,  in  the  mist  and  dark- 
ness ;  but  the  loud  shouting  of  men  vibrated  through  the 
air,  and  the  barking  of  the  neighboring  dogs,  roused  by  the 
sound  of  the  alarm-bell,  resounded  in  every  direction. 

"  Stop,  you  white-livered  hound  !  "  cried  the  robber, 
shouting  after  Toby  Crackit,  who,  making  the  best  use  of  his 
long  legs,  was  already  ahead.     "  Stop  !  " 

The  repetition  of  the  word  brought  Toby  to  a  dead  stand- 
still. For  he  was  not  quite  satisfied  that  he  was  beyond  the 
range  of  pistol-shot  ;  and  Sikes  was  in  no  mood  to  be  played 
with. 

"  Bear  a  hand  with  the  boy,"  cried  Sikes,  beckoning  furi- 
ously to  his  confederate.     "  Come  back  !  " 

Toby  made  a  show  of  returning  ;  but  ventured,  in  a  low 
voice,  broken  for  want  of  breath,  to  intimate  considerable 
reluctance  as  he  came  slowly  along. 

"Quicker  !  "  cried  Sikes,  laying  the  boy  in  a  dry  ditch  at 
his  feet,  and  drawing  the  pistol  from  his  pocket.  "  Don't 
play  booty  with  me  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  noise  grew  louder.  Sikes,  again  look- 
ing round,  could  discern  that  the  men  who  had  given  chase 
were  already  climbing  the  gate  of  the  field  in  which  he  stood  ; 
and  that  a  couple  of  dogs  were  some  paces  in  advance  of 
them. 

"  It's  all  up,  Bill !  "  cried  Toby  ;  "  drop  the  kid,  and  show 
'em  your  heels."  With  this  parting  advice,  Mr.  Crackit, 
preferring  the  chance  of  being  shot  by  his  friend  to  the  cer- 
tainty of  being  taken  by  his  enemies,  fairly  turned  tail,  and 
darted  off  at  full  speed.  Sikes  clenched  his  teeth  ;  took 
one  look  around  ;  threw  over  the  prostrate  form  of  Oliver 
the  cape  in  which  he  had  been  hurriedly  muffled  ;  ran  along 
the  front  of  the  hedge,  as  if  to  distract  the  attention  of  those 
behind  from  the  spot  where  the  boy  lay  ;  paused  for  a  second 
before  another  hedge  which  met  it  at  right  angles  ;  and, 
whirling  his  pistol  high  into  the  air,  cleared  it  at  a  bound, 
and  was  gone. 

"  Ho,  ho,  there  !  "  cried  a  tremulous  voice  in  the  rear, 
"  Pincher  !  Neptune  !     Come  here,  come  here  !  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  207 

The  dogs,  who,  in  common  with  their  masters,  seemed  to 
have  no  particular  relish  for  the  sport  in  which  they  were 
engaged,  readily  answered  to  the  command.  Three  men,  who 
had  by  this  time  advanced  some  distance  into  the  field,  stop- 
ped to  take  counsel  together. 

"  My  advice,  or,  leastways,  I  should  say,  my  orders,  is," 
said  the  fattest  man  of  the  party,  "  that  we  'mediately  go 
home  again." 

"  I  am  agreeable  to  any  thing  which  is  agreeable  to  Mr. 
Giles,"  said  a  shorter  man  ;  who  was  by  no  means  of  a  slim 
figure,  and  who  was  very  pale  in  the  face,  and  very  polite  ; 
as  frightened  men  frequently  are. 

"  I  shouldn't  wish  to  appear  ill-mannered,  gentlemen," 
said  the  third,  who  had  called  the  dogs  back  ;  "  Mr.  Giles 
ought  to  know." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  shorter  man  ;  "  and  whatever  Mr. 
Giles  says,  it  isn't  our  place  to  contradict  him.  No,  no,  I 
know  my  sitiwation  !  Thank  my  stars,  I  know  my  sitiwa- 
tion."  To  tell  the  truth,  the  little  man  did  seem  to  know  his 
situation,  and  to  know  perfectly  well  that  it  was  by  no  means 
a  desirable  one  ;  for  his  teeth  chattered  in  his  head  as  he 
spoke. 

"  You  are  afraid,  Brittles,"  said  Mr.  Giles. 

"I  a'n't,"  said  Brittles. 

"  You  are,"  said  Giles. 

"  You're  a  falsehood,  Mr.  Giles,"  said  Brittles. 

"You're  a  lie,  Brittles,"  said  Mr.  Giles. 

Now  these  four  retorts  arose  from  Mr.  Giles's  taunt ;  and 
Mr.  Giles's  taunt  had  arisen  from  his  indignation  at  having 
the  responsibility  of  going  home  again  imposed  upon  him- 
self under  cover  of  a  compliment.  The  third  man  brought 
the  dispute  to  a  close,  most  philosophically. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  we're  all 
afraid." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  who  was  the 
palest  of  the  party. 

"  So  I  do,"  replied  the  man.  **  It's  natural  and  proper  to 
be  afraid,  under  such  circumstances,     /am." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Brittles  ;  "  only  there's  no  call  to  tell  a 
man  he  is,  so  bounceably." 

These  frank  admissions  softened  Mr.  Giles,  who  at  once 
owned  that  he  was  afraid  ;  upon  which  they  all  three  faced 
about,  and  ran  back  again  with  the  completest  unanimity, 


2o5  OLIVER  TWIST. 

until  Mr.  Giles  (who  had  the  shortest  wind  of  the  party,  and 
was  encumbered  with  a  pitchfork)  most  handsomely  insisted 
on  stopping,  to  make  an  apology  for  his  hastiness  of  speech. 

•*  But  it's  wonderful,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  when  he  had  ex- 
plained, "  what  u  man  will  do  when  his  blood  is  up.  I 
should  have  committed  murder — I  know  I  should — if  we'd 
caught  one  of  them  rascals." 

As  the  other  two  were  impressed  with  a  similar  presenti- 
ment ;  and  as  their  blood,  like  his,  had  all  gone  down  again  ; 
some  speculation  ensued  upon  the  cause  of  this  sudden 
change  in  their  temperament. 

"  I  know  what  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Giles ;  "  it  was  the 
gate." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was,"  exclaimed  Brittles,  catch- 
ing at  the  idea. 

"You  may  depend  upon  it,"  said  Giles,  "that  that  gate 
stopped  the  flow  of  the  excitement.  I  felt  all  mine  suddenly 
going  away  as  I  was  climbing  over  it." 

By  a  remarkable  coincidence,  the  other  two  had  been  vis- 
ited with  the  same  unpleasant  sensation  at  that  precise  mo- 
ment. It  was  quite  obvious,  therefore,  that  it  was  the  gate  ; 
especially  as  there  was  no  doubt  regarding  the  time  at  which 
the  change  had  taken  place,  because  all  three  remembered 
that  they  had  come  in  sight  of  the  robbers  at  the  instant  of 
its  occurrence. 

This  dialogue  was  held  between  the  two  men  who  had  sur- 
prised the  burglars,  and  a  traveling  tinker  who  had  been 
sleeping  in  an  out-house,  and  who  had  been  roused,  together 
with  his  two  mongrel  curs,  to  join  in  the  pursuit.  Mr.  Giles 
acted  in  the  double  capacity  of  butler  and  steward  to  the  old 
lady  of  the  mansion ;  Brittles  was  a  lad-of-all  work,  who, 
having  entered  her  service  a  mere  child,  was  treated  as  a 
promising  young  boy  still,  though  he  was  something  past 
thirty. 

Encouraging  each  other  with  such  converse  as  this  ;  but, 
keeping  very  close  together,  notwithstanding,  and  looking 
apprehensively  round,  whenever  a  fresh  gust  rattled  through 
the  boughs,  the  three  men  hurried  back  to  a  tree,  behind 
which  they  had  left  their  lantern,  lest  its  light  should  inform 
the  thieves  in  what  direction  to  fire.  Catching  up  the  light, 
they  made  the  best  of  their  way  home  at  a  good  round  trot; 
and  long  after  their  dusky  forms  had  ceased  to  be  discern- 
ible, the  light  might  have  been  seen  twinkling  and  dancing 


OLIVER  TWIST.  209 

in  the  distance,  like  some  exhalation  of  the  damp  and 
gloomy  atmosphere  through  which  it  was  swiftly  borne. 

The  ajr  grew  colder  as  day  came  slowly  on  ;  and  the  mist 
rolled  along  the  ground  like  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke.  The 
grass  was  wet ;  the  pathways  and  low  places  were  all  mire 
and  water ;  the  damp  breath  of  an  unwholesome  wind  went 
languidly  by,  with  a  hollow  moaning.  Still,  Oliver  lay  mo- 
tionless and  insensible  on  the  spot  where  Sikes  had  left  him. 

Morning  drew  on  apace.  The  air  became  more  sharp  and 
piercing,  as  its  first  dull  hue — the  death  of  night,  rather  than 
the  birth  of  day — glimmered  faintly  in  the  sky.  The  objects 
which  had  looked  dim  and  terrible  in  the  darkness  grew 
more  and  more  defined,  and  gradually  resolved  into  their 
familiar  shapes.  The  rain  came  down,  thick  and  fast,  and 
pattered  noisily  among  the  leafless  bushes.  But  Oliver  felt 
it  not,  as  it  beat  against  him  ;  for  he  still  lay  stretched,  help- 
less and  unconscious,  on  his  bed  of  clay. 

At  length,  a  low  cry  of  pain  broke  the  stillness  that  pre- 
vailed ;  and  uttering  it,  the  boy  awoke.  His  left  arm,  rudely 
bandaged  in  a  shawl,  hung  heavy  and  useless  at  his  side  :  the 
bandage  was  saturated  with  blood.  He  was  so  weak,  that 
he  could  scarcely  raise  himself  into  a  sitting,  posture  ;  when 
he  had  done  so,  he  looked  feebly  round  for  help,  and  groan- 
ed with  pain.  Trembling  in  every  joint,  from  cold  and  ex- 
haustion, he  made  an  effort  to  stand  upright ;  but,  shudder- 
ing from  head  to  foot,  fell  prostrate  on  the  ground. 

After  a  short  return  of  the  stupor  in  which  he  had  been  so 
long  plunged,  Oliver,  urged  by  a  creeping  sickness  at  his 
heart,  which  seemed  to  warn  him  that,  if  he  lay  there,  he  must 
surely  die,  got  upon  his  feet,  and  essayed  to  walk.  His  head 
was  dizzy,  and  he  staggered  to  and  fro  like  a  drunken  man. 
But  he  kept  up,  nevertheless,  and,  with  his  head  drooping 
languidly  on  his  breast,  went  stumbling  onward,  he  knew 
not  whither. 

And  now,  hosts  of  bewildering  and  confused  ideas  came 
crowding  on  his  mind.  He  seemed  to  be  still  walking  be- 
tween Sikes  and  Crackit,  who  were  angrily  disputing — for 
the  very  words  they  said  sounded  in  his  ears  ;  and  when  he 
caught  his  own  attention,  as  it  were,  by  making  some  violent 
effort  to  save  himself  from  falling,  he  found  that  he  was  talk- 
ing to  them.  Then  he  was  alone  with  Sikes,  plodding  on  as 
on  the  previous  day  ;  and  as  shadowy  people  passed  them,  he 
felt  the  robber's  grasp  upon  his  wrist.     Suddenly,  he  started 


210  OLIVER  TWIST. 

back  at  the  report  of  fire-arms  ;  there  rose  into  the  air  loud 
cries  and  shouts  ;  lights  gleamed  before  his  eyes  ;  all  was 
noise  and  tumult,  and  some  unseen  hand  bore  him  hurriedly 
away.  Through  all  these  rapid  visions,  there  ran  an  unde- 
fined, uneasy  consciousness  of  pain,  which  wearied  and  tor- 
mented him  incessantly. 

Thus  he  staggered  on,  creeping  almost  mechanically,  be- 
tween the  bars  of  gates,  or  through  hedge-gaps,  as  they  came 
in  his  way,  until  he  reached  a  road.  Here  the  rain  began  to 
fall  so  heavily,  that  it  roused  him. 

He  looked  about,  and  saw  at  no  great  distance  there  was 
a  house,  which  perhaps  he  could  reach.  Pitying  his  condition, 
they  might  have  compassion  on  him  ;  and  if  they  did  not,  it 
would  be  better,  he  thought,  to  die  near  human  beings  than 
in  the  lonely  open  fields.  He  summoned  up  all  his  strength 
for  one  last  trial,  and  bent  his  faltering  steps  toward  it. 

As  he  drew  nearer  to  this  house,  a  feeling  came  over  him 
that  he  had  seen  it  before.  He  remembered  nothing  of  its 
details  ;  but  the  shape  and  aspect  of  the  building  seemed 
familiar  to  him. 

That  garden  wall !  On  the  grass  inside,  he  had  fallen  on 
his  knees  last  night,  and  prayed  the  two  men's  mercy.  It  was 
the  very  house  they  had  attempted  to  rob. 

Oliver  felt  such  fear  come  over  him  when  he  recognized 
the  place,  that,  for  the  instant,  he  forgot  the  agony  of  his 
wound,  and  thought  only  of  flight.  Flight  !  He  could  scarcely 
stand  ;  and  if  he  were  in  full  possession  of  all  the  best  powers 
of  his  slight  and  youthful  frame,  whither  could  he  fly?  He 
pushed  against  the  garden-gate  ;  it  was  unlocked,  and  swung 
open  on  its  hinges.  He  tottered  across  the  lawn  ;  climbed 
the  steps  ;  knocked  faintly  at  the  door  ;  and,  his  whole 
strength  failing  him,  sunk  down  against  one  of  the  pillars  of 
the  little  portico. 

It  happened  that  about  this  time,  Mr.  Giles,  Brittles,  and 
the  tinker,  were  recruiting  themselves,  after  the  fatigues  and 
terrors  of  the  night,  with  tea  and  sundries,  in  the  kitchen. 
Not  that  it  was  Mr.  Giles's  habit  to  admit  to  too  great  fam- 
iliarity the  humbler  servants  :  toward  whom  it  was  rather  his 
wont  to  deport  himself  with  a  lofty  affability,  which,  while  it 
gratified,  could  not  fail  to  remind  them  of  his  superior  posi- 
tion in  society.  But  death,  fires,  and  burglary,  make  all  men 
equals  ;  so  Mr.  Giles  sat  with  his  legs  stretched  out  before 
the  kitchen  fender,  leaning  his  left  arm  on  the  table,  while, 


OLIVER  TWIST.  211 

with  his  right,  he  illustrated  a  circumstantial  and  minute  ac- 
count of  the  robbery,  to  which  his  hearers  (but  especially  the 
cook  and  house-maid,  who  were  of  the  party)  listened  with 
breathless  interest. 

"  It  was  about  half-past  two,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  or  I 
wouldn't  swear  that  it  mightn't  have  been  a  little  nearer  three, 
when  I  woke  up,  and,  turning  roifnd  in  my  bed,  as  it  might 
be  so  (here  Mr.  Giles  turned  round  in  his  chair,  and  pulled 
the  corner  of  the  table-cloth  over  him  to  imitate  bed-clothes), 
I  fancied  I  heerd  a  noise." 

At  this  point  of  the  narrative  the  cook  turned  pale,  and 
asked  the  house-maid  to  shut  the  door  :  who  asked  Brittles, 
who  asked  the  tinker,  who  pretended  not  to  hear. 

" — Heerd  a  noise,"  continued  Mr.  Giles.  "  I  says,  at  first, 
'  This  is  illusion  ; '  and  was  composing  myself  off  to  sleep, 
when  I  heerd  the  noise  again,  distinct." 

"  What  sort  of  a  noise  ?  "  asked  the  cook. 

"  A  kind  of  a  busting  noise,"  replied  Mr.  Giles,  looking 
round  him. 

. "  More  like  the  noise  of  powdering  a  iron  bar  on  a  nutmeg- 
grater,"  suggested  Brittles. 

"  It  was,  whtn  you  heerd  it,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Giles  ;  "  but 
at  this  time  it  had  a  busting  sound.  I  turned  down  the 
clothes,"  continued  Giles,  rolling  back  the  table-cloth,  "sat 
up  in  bed,  and  listened." 

The  cook  and  house-maid  simultaneously  ejaculated  "Lor!" 
and  drew  their  chairs  closer  together. 

"  I  heerd  it  now,  quite  apparent,"  resumed  Mr.  Giles. 
"  '  Somebody,'  I  says, '  is  forcing  of  a  door,  or  window  ;  what's 
to  be  done  ?  I'll  call  up  that  poor  lad,  Brittles,  and  save  him 
from  being  murdered  in  his  bed  ;  or  his  throat,'  I  says,  ( may 
be  cut  from  his  right  ear  to  his  left,  without  his  ever  knowing 
it.'" 

Here  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  Brittles,  who  fixed  his 
upon  the  speaker,  and  stared  at  him  with  his  mouth  wide 
open,  and  his  face  expressive  of  the  most  unmitigated  horror. 

"  I  tossed  off  the  clothes,"  said  Giles,  throwing  away  the 
table-cloth,  and  looking  very  hard  at  the  cook  and  house- 
maid, "  got  softly  out  of  bed,  drew  on  a  pair  of — " 

"  Ladies  present,  Mr.  Giles,"  murmured  the  tinker. 

" — Of  shoes  sir,"  said  Giles,  turning  upon  him,  and  laying 
great  emphasis  on  the  word  ;  "  seized  the  loaded  pistol  that 
always  goes  up  stairs  with  the  plate-basket ;  and  walked  op 


212  OLIVER  TWIST. 

tiptoes  to  his  room.     '  Brittles,'  I  says,  when  I  had  woke  him, 
'  don't  be  frightened  ! '  " 

"  So  yon  did,"  observed  Brittles,  in  a  low  voice. 

"'We're  dead  men,  I  think,  Brittles,'  I  says,"  continued 
Giles  ;  "  '  but  don't  be  frightened.'  " 

"  Was  he  frightened  ?  "  asked  the  cook. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Giles.  "  He  was  as  firm — 
ah  !  pretty  near  as  firm  as  I  was." 

"  I  should  have  died  at  once,  I'm  sure,  if  it  had  been  me," 
observed  the  house-maid. 

"You're  a  woman,"  retorted  Brittles,  plucking  up  a  little. 

"  Brittles  is  right,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  nodding  his  head  ap- 
provingly ;  "  from  a  woman  nothing  else  was  to  be  expected. 
We,  being  men,  took  a  dark  lantern  that  was  standing  on 
Brittles's  hob,  and  groped  our  way  down  stairs  in  the  pitch 
dark — as  might  be  so." 

Mr.  Giles  had  risen  from  his  seat,  and  taken  two  steps 
with  his  eyes  shut,  to  accompany  his  description  with  ap- 
propriate action,  when  he  started  violently,  in  common  with 
the  rest  of  the  company,  and  hurried  back  to  his  chair.  The 
cook  and  house-maid  screamed. 

"  It  was  a  knock,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  assuming  perfect  se- 
renity.    "  Open  the  door,  somebody." 

Nobody  moved. 

"  It  seems  a  strange  sort  of  a  thing,  a  knock  coming  at 
such  a  time  in  the  morning,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  surveying  the 
pale  faces  which  surrounded  him,  and  looking  very  blank 
himself  ;  "  but  the  door  must  be  opened.  Do  you  hear,  some- 
body." 

Mr.  Giles,  as  he  spoke,  looked  at  Brittles  ;  but  that  young 
man,  being  naturally  modest,  probably  considered  himself  no- 
body, and  so  held  that  the  inquiry  could  not  have  any  applica- 
tion to  him  ;  at  all  events,  he  tendered  no  reply.  Mr.  Giles 
directed  an  appealing  glance  at  the  tinker  ;  but  he  had  sud- 
denly fallen  asleep.     The  women  were  out  of  the  question. 

"  If  Brittles  would  rather  open  the  door  in  the  presence  of 
witnesses,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  after  a  short  silence,  "  I  am  ready 
to  make  one." 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  tinker,  waking  up  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  fallen  asleep. 

Brittles  capitulated  on  these  terms  ;  and  the  party  being 
somewhat  reassured  by  the  discovery  (made  on  throwing 
open  the  shutters)  that  it  was  now  broad  day,  took  their  way 


OLIVER  TWIST.  213 

up  stairs,  with  the  dogs  in  front.  The  two  women,  who  were 
afraid  to  stay  below,  brought  up  the  rear.  By  the  advice  of 
Mr.  Giles,  they  all  talked  very  loud,  to  warn  any  evil-disposed 
person  outside  that  they  were  strong  in  numbers  ;  and  by  a 
master-stroke  of  policy,  originating  in  the  brain  of  the  same 
ingenious  gentleman,  the  dogs'  tails  were  well  pinched,  in  the 
hall,  to  make  them  bark  savagely. 

These  precautions  having  been  taken,  Mr.  Giles  held  on 
fast  by  the  tinker's  arm  (to  prevent  his  running  away,  as  he 
pleasantly  said),  and  gave  the  word  of  command  to  open  the 
door.  Brittles  obeyed  ;  the  group,  peeping  timorously  over 
each  other's  shoulders,  beheld  no  more  formidable  object  than 
poor  little  Oliver  Twist,  speechless  and  exhausted,  who  raised 
his  heavy  eyes  and  mutely  solicited  their  compassion. 

"  A  boy  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Giles,  valiantly  pushing  the 
tinker  into  the  background.  "  What's  the  matter  with  the — 
Eh  ?     Why — Brittles — look  here — don't  you  know  ?  " 

Brittles,  who  had  got  behind  the  door  to  open  it,  no  sooner 
saw  Oliver,  than  he  uttered  a  loud  cry.  Mr.  Giles,  seizing 
the  boy  by  one  leg  and  one  arm  (fortunately  not  the  broken 
limb)  lugged  him  straight  into  the  hall,  and  deposited  him  at 
full  length  on  the  floor  thereof. 

"  Here  he  is  !  "  bawled  Giles,  calling,  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement,  up  the  staircase  ;  "  here's  one  of  the  thieves, 
ma'am  !  Here's  a  thief,  miss  !  Wounded,  miss  !  I  shot  him, 
miss  ;  and  Brittles  held  the  light." 

" — In  a  lantern,  miss,"  cried  Brittles,  applying  one  hand  to 
the  side  of  his  mouth,  so  that  his  voice  might  travel  the  better. 

The  two  women-servants  ran  up  stairs  to  carry  the  in- 
telligence that  Mr.  Giles  had  captured  a  robber  ;  and  the 
tinker  busied  himself  in  endeavoring  to  restore  Oliver,  lest  he 
should  die  before  he  could  be  hanged.  In  the  midst  of  all 
this  noise  and  commotion  there  was  heard  a  sweet  female 
voice,  which  quelled  it  in  an  instant. 

"  Giles  !  "  whispered  the  voice  from  the  stairhead. 

"  I'm  here,  miss,"  replied  Mr.  Giles.  "  Don't  be  frighten- 
ed, miss  ;  I  ain't  much  injured.  He  didn't  make  a  very 
desperate  resistance,  miss  !     I  was  soon  too  many  for  him." 

"  Hush  !  "  replied  the  young  lady;  "  you  frightened  my 
aunt  as  much  as  the  thieves  did.  Is  the  poor  creature  much 
hurt  ?  " 

"Wounded  desperate,  miss,"  replied  Giles,  with  indescrib- 
able complacency. 


2i4  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  was  a-going,  miss,"  bawled  Brittles,  in 
the  same  manner  as  before.  "Wouldn't  you  like  to  come 
and  look  at  him,  miss,  in  case  he  should  ? " 

"  Hush,  pray  ;  there's  a  good  man  !  "  rejoined  the  lady. 
"  Wait  quietly  only  one  instant,  while  I  speak  to  aunt." 

With  a  footstep  as  soft  and  gentle  as  the  voice,  the  speaker 
tripped  away.  She  soon  returned,  with  the  direction  that 
the  wounded  person  was  to  be  carried  carefully  up  stairs  to 
Mr.  Giles's  room  ;  and  that  Brittles  was  to  saddle  the  pony 
and  betake  himself  instantly  to  Chertsey  ;  from  which  place 
he  was  to  dispatch,  with  all  speed,  a  constable  and  doctor. 

"  But  won't  you  take  one  look  at  him  first,  miss  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Giles,  with  as  much  pride  as  if  Oliver  were  some  bird  of 
rare  plumage  that  he  had  skillfully  brought  down.  "  Not 
one  little  peep,  miss  ?" 

"  Not  now,  for  the  world,"  replied  the  young  lady.  "  Poor 
fellow  !     Oh  !  treat  him  kindly,  Giles,  for  my  sake  !  " 

The  old  servant  looked  up  at  the  speaker,  as  she  turned 
away,  with  a  glance  as  proud  and  admiring  as  if  she  had 
been  his  own  child.  Then,  bending  over  Oliver,  he  helped 
to  carry  him  up  stairs,  with  the  care  and  solicitude  of  a 
woman. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

HAS  AN  INTRODUCTORY  ACCOUNT    OF  THE  INMATES  OF    THE 
HOUSE    TO    WHICH    OLIVER    RESORTED. 

In  a  handsome  room,  though  its  furniture  had  rather  the 
air  of  old-fashioned  comfort  than  of  modern  elegance,  there 
sat  two  ladies  at  a  well-spread  breakfast-table.  Mr.  Giles, 
dressed  with  scrupulous  care  in  a  full  suit  of  black,  was  in 
attendance  upon  them.  He  had  taken  his  station  some 
half-way  between  the  sideboard  and  the  breakfast-table  ; 
and,  with  his  body  drawn  up  to  its  full  height,  his  head 
thrown  back,  and  inclined  the  merest  trifle  on  one  side,  Irs 
left  leg  advanced,  and  his  right  hand  thrust  into  his  waist 
coat,  while  his  left  hung  down  by  his  side,  grasping  a  waiter, 
looked  like  one  who  labored  under  a  very  agreeable  sense 
of  his  own  merits  and  importance. 

Of  the  two  ladies,  one  was  well  advanced  in  years  ;  but 
the  high-backed  oaken  chair  in  which  she  sat  was  not  more 


OLIVER  TWIST. 


215 


upright  than  sne.  Dressed  with  the  utmost  nicety  and  pre 
cision,  in  a  quaint  mixture  of  by-gone  costume,  with  some 
slight  concessions  to  the  prevailing  taste,  which  rather 
served  to  point  the  old  style  pleasantly  than  to  impair  its 
effect,  she  sat,  in  a  stately  manner,  with  her  hands  folded  on 
the  table  before  her.  Her  eyes  (and  age  had  dimmed  but 
little  of  their  brightness)  were  attentively  fixed  upon  her 
young  companion. 

The  younger  lady  was  in  the  lovely  bloom  and  spring- 
time of  womanhood  ;  at  that  age  when,  if  ever  angels  be  for 
God's  good  purposes  enthroned  in  mortal  forms,  they  may 
be,  without  impiety,  supposed  to  abide  in  such  as  hers. 

She  was  not  past  seventeen.  Cast  in  so  slight  and  ex- 
quisite a  mold  ;  so  mild  and  gentle  ;  so  pure  and  beautiful  ; 
that  earth  seemed  not  her  element,  nor  its  rough  creatures 
her  fit  companions.  The  very  intelligence  that  shone  in 
her  deep  blue  eyes,  and  was  stamped  upon  her  noble  head, 
seemed  scarcely  of  her  age,  or  of  the  world  ;  and  yet  the 
changing  expression  of  sweetness  and  good-humor,  the 
thousand  lights  that  played  about  the  face,  and  left  no 
shadow  there  ;  above  all,  the  smile,  the  cheerful,  happy  smile, 
were  made  for  Home,  and  fireside  peace  and  happiness. 

She  was  busily  engaged  in  the  little  offices  of  the  table. 
Chancing  to  raise  her  eyes  as  the  elder  lady  was  regarding 
her,  she  playfully  put  back  her  hair,  which  was  simply 
braided  on  her  forehead,  and  threw  into  her  beaming  look 
such  an  expression  of  affection  and  artless  loveliness,  that 
blessed  spirits  might  have  smiled  to  look  upon  her. 

"  And  Brittles  has  been  gone  upward  of  an  hour,  has  he  ?  " 
asked  the  old  lady,  after  a  pause. 

"An  hour  and  twelve  minutes,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Giles, 
referring  to  a  silver  watch,  which  he  drew  forth  by  a  black 
ribbon. 

"  He  is  always  slow,"  remarked  the  old  lady. 

"  Brittles  always  was  a  slow  boy,  ma'am,"  replied  the  at- 
tendant. And,  seeing  by-the-by,  that  Brittles  had  been 
a  slow  boy  for  upward  of  thirty  years,  there  appeared  no 
great  probability  of  his  ever  being  a  fast  one. 

"  He  gets  worse  instead  of  better,  I  think,"  said  the  elder 
lady. 

"  It  is  very  inexcusable  in  him  if  he  stops  to  play  with 
any  other  boys,"  said  the  young  lady,  smiling. 

Mr.  Giles  was  apparently  considering  the  propriety  of  in- 


216  OLIVER  TWIST. 

dulging  in  a  respectful  smile  himself,  when  a  gig  drove  up  to 
the  garden-gate,  out  of  which  there  jumped  a  fat  gentleman 
who  ran  straight  up  to  the  door  ;  and  who,  getting 
quickly  into  the  house  by  some  mysterious  process,  burst 
into  the  room,  and  nearly  overturned  Mr.  Giles  and  the 
breakfast-table  together. 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  "  exclaimed  the  fat  gen- 
tleman. My  dear  Mrs.  May  lie— bless  my  soul — in  the 
silence  of  night,  too — I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

With  these  expressions  of  condolence,  the  fat  gentleman 
shook  hands  with  both  ladies,  and,  drawing  up  a  chair,  in- 
quired how  they  found  themselves. 

"  You  ought  to  be  dead,  positively  dead  with  the  fright," 
said  the  fat  gentleman.  "  Why  didn't  you  send  ?  Bless  me, 
my  man  should  have  come  in  a  minute  ;  and  so  would  I  ; 
and  my  assistant  would  have  been  delighted  ;  or  any  body, 
I'm  sure,  under  such  circumstances.  Dear,  dear  !  So  un- 
expected !     In  the  silence  of  night,  too  !  " 

The  doctor  seemed  especially  troubled  by  the  fact  of  the 
robbery  having  been  unexpected,  and  attempted  in  the 
night-time  ;  as  if  it  were  the  established  custom  of  gentlemen 
in  the  house-breaking  way  to  transact  business  at  noon,  and 
to  make  an  appointment  by  post,  a  day  or  two  previous. 

"And  you,  Miss  Rose,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  the 
young  lady,  "  I — " 

"  Oh  !  very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Rose,  interrupting  him; 
"but  there  is  a  poor  creature  up  stairs  whom  aunt  wishes  you 
to  see." 

"  Ah  !  to  be  sure,"  replied  the  doctor,  "so  there  is.  That 
was  your  handiwork,  Giles,  I  understand." 

Mr.  Giles,  who  had  been  feverishly  putting  the  tea-cups  to 
rights,  blushed  very  red,  and  said  that  he  had  had  that 
honor. 

"  Honor,  eh  ?  "  said  the  doctor  ;  "  well,  I  den't  know  ; 
perhaps  it's  as  honorable  to  hit  a  thief  in  a  back  kitchen  as 
to  hit  your  man  at  twelve  paces.  Fancy  that  he  fired  in  the 
air,  and  you've  fought  a  duel,  Giles." 

Mr.  Giles,  who  thought  this  light  treatment  of  the  matter 
an  unjust  attempt  at  diminishing  his  glory,  answered  respect- 
fully, that  it  was  not  for  the  like  of  him  to  judge  about  that; 
but  he  rather  thought  it  was  no  joke  to  the  opposite  party. 

"Gad,  that's  true!"  said  the  doctor.  "Where  is  he? 
Show  me  the  way.     I'll  look  in  again,  as  I  come  down,  Mrs- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  217 

Maylie.  That's  the  little  window  that  he  got  in  at,  eh  ? 
Well,  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  !  " 

Talking  all  the  way,  he  followed  Mr.  Giles  up  stairs  ;  and 
while  he  is  going  up  stairs,  the  reader  may  be  informed  that 
Mr.  Losberne,  a  surgeon  in  the  neighborhood,  known 
through  a  circuit  of  ten  miles  round  as  "the  doctor,"  had 
grown  fat  more  from  good  humor  than  from  good  living; 
and  was  as  kind  and  hearty,  and  withal  as  eccentric  an  old 
bachelor,  as  will  be  found  in  five  times  that  space  by  any  ex- 
plorer alive. 

The  doctor  was  absent  much  longer  than  either  he  or  the 
ladies  had  anticipated.  A  large  flat  box  was  fetched  out  of 
the  gig  ;  and  a  bedroom  bell  was  rung  very  often  ;  and  the 
servants  ran  up  and  down  stairs  perpetually  ;  from  which 
tokens  it  was  justly  concluded  that  something  important  was 
going  on  above.  At  length  he  returned  ;  and  in  reply  to  an 
anxious  inquiry  after  his  patient,  looked  very  mysterious, 
and  closed  the  door  carefully. 

"  This  is  a  very  extraordinary  thing,  Mrs.  Maylie,"  said 
the  doctor,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door,  as  if  to  keep 
it  shut. 

"  He  is  not  in  danger,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Why,  that  would  not  be  an  extraordinary  thing,  under 
the  circumstances,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  though  I  don't 
think  he  is.     Have  you  seen  this  thief  ?  " 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  old  lady. 

"  Nor  heard  any  thing  about  him  ?" 

"No." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  interposed  Mr.  Giles  ;  "  but 
I  was  going  to  telr  you  about  him  when  Doctor  Losberne 
came  in." 

The  fact  was,  that  Mr.  Giles  had  not,  at  first,  been  able 
to  bring  his  mind  to  the  avowal  that  he  had  only  shot  a  boy. 
Such  commendations  had  been  bestowed  upon  his  bravery, 
that  he  could  not,  for  the  life  of  him,  help  postponing  the 
explanation  for  a  few  delicious  minutes  ;  during  which  he 
had  flourished  in  the  very  zenith  of  a  brief  reputation  for  un- 
daunted courage. 

"  Rose  wished  to  see  the  man,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  "but  I 
wouldn't  hear  of  it." 

"  Humph  !  "  rejoined  the  doctor.  "  There  is  nothing  very 
alarming  in  his  appearance.  Have  you  any  objection  to  see 
him  in  my  presence  ?  " 


2i$  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"If  it  be  necessary,"  replied  the  old  lady,  "certainly  not." 
"  Then  I  think  it  is  necessary,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  at  all 
events,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  would  deeply  regret  not 
having  done  so  if  you  postponed  it.  He  is  perfectly  quiet 
and  comfortable  now.  Allow  me — Miss  Rose,  will  you  per- 
mit me  ?     Not  the  slightest  fear,  I  pledge  you  my  honor  1  " 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

RELATES  WHAT  OLIVER'S    NEW    VISITORS   THOUGHT  OF    HIM. 

With  many  loquacious  assurances  that  they  would  be 
agreeably  surprised  in  the  aspect  of  the  criminal,  the  doctor 
drew  the  young  lady's  arm  through  one  of  his  ;  and  offering 
his  disengaged  hand  to  Mrs.  Maylie,  led  them,  with  much 
ceremony  and  stateliness,  up  stairs. 

"  Now,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  whisper,  as  he  softly  turned 
the  handle  of  the  bedroom-door,  "  let  us  hear  what  you 
think  of  him.  He  has  not  been  shaved  very  recently,  but 
he  don't  look  at  all  ferocious,  notwithstanding.  Stop, 
though  ?  Let  me  first  see  that  he  is  in  visiting  order." 

Stepping  before  them,  he  looked  into  the  room.  Motion- 
ing them  to  advance,  he  closed  the  door  when  they  had 
entered,  and  gently  drew  back  the  curtains  of  the  bed.  Upon 
it,  in  lieu  of  the  dogged,  black-visaged  ruffian  they  had  ex- 
pected to  behold,  there  lay  a  mere  child  :  worn  with  pain 
and  exhaustion,  and  sunk  into  a  deep  sleep.  His  wounded 
arm,  bound  and  splintered  up,  was  crossed  upon  his  breast ; 
his  head  reclined  upon  the  other  arm,  which  was  half  hidden 
by  his  long  hair,  as  it  streamed  over  the  pillow. 

The  honest  gentleman  held  the  curtain  in  his  hand,  and 
looked  on  for  a  minute  or  so  in  silence.  While  he  was 
watching  the  patient  thus,  the  younger  lady  glided  softly 
past,  and  seating  herself  in  a  chair  by  the  bedside,  gathered 
Oliver's  hair  from  his  face.  As  she  stooped  over  him,  her 
tears  fell  upon  his  forehead. 

The  boy  stirred,  and  smiled  in  his  sleep,  as  though  these 
marks  of  pity  and  compassion  had  awakened  some  pleasant 
dream  of  a  love  and  affection  he  had  never  known.  Thus,  a 
strain  of  gentle  music,  or  the  rippling  of  water  in  a  silent 
place,  or  the  odor  of  a  flower,  or  the  mention  of  a   familiar 


OLIVER  TWIST.  219 

word,  will  sometimes  call  up  sudden  dim  remembrances 
of  scenes  that  never  were,  in  this  life  ;  which  vanish  like  a 
breath  ;  which  some  brief  memory  of  a  happier  existence, 
long  gone  by,  would  seem  to  have  awakened  ;  which  no  vol- 
untary exertion  of  the  mind  can  ever  recall. 

"  What  can  this  mean  ? "  exclaimed  the  elder  lady.  "  This 
poor  child  can  never  have  been  the  pupil  of  robbers  !  " 

"  Vice,"  sighed  the  surgeon,  replacing  the  curtain,  "  takes 
up  her  abode  in  many  temples  ;  and  who  can  say  that  a  fair 
outside  shall  not  enshrine  her  ?" 

"  But  at  so  early  an  age  !  "  urged  Rose. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  rejoined  the  surgeon,  mournfully 
shaking  his  head  ;  "  crime,  like  death,  is  not  confined  to  the 
old  and  withered  alone.  The  youngest  and  fairest  are  too 
often  its  chosen  victims." 

"  But  can  you — oh  !  can  you  really  believe  that  this  del- 
icate boy  has  been  the  voluntary  associate  of  the  worst  out- 
casts  of  society  ?  "  said  Rose. 

The  surgeon  shook  his  head,  in  a  manner  which  intimated 
that  he  feared  it  was  very  possible  ;  and  observing  that  they 
might  disturb  the  patient,  led  the  way  into  an  adjoining 
apartment. 

"  But  even  if  he  has  been  wicked,"  pursued  Rose,  "  think 
how  young  he  is  ;  think  that  he  may  never  have  known  a 
mother's  love,  or  the  comfort  of  a  home  ;  that  ill-usage  and 
blows,  or  the  want  of  bread,  may  have  driven  him  to  herd 
with  men  who  have  forced  him  to  guilt.  Aunt,  dear  aunt, 
for  mercy's  sake,  think  of  this,  before  you  let  them  drag  this 
sick  child  to  a  prison,  which  in  any  case  must  be  the  grave  of 
all  his  chance  of  amendment.  Oh  !  as  you  love  me,  and 
know  that  I  have  never  felt  the  want  of  parents  in  your 
goodness  and  affection,  but  that  I  might  have  done  so,  and 
might  have  been  equally  helpless  and  unprotected  with  this 
poor  child,  have  pity  upon  him  before  it  is  too  late  !  " 

"  My  dear  love,"  said  the  elder  lady,  as  she  folded  the 
weeping  girl  to  her  bosom,  "  do  you  think  I  would  harm  a 
hair  of  his  head  ?  " 

"Oh,  no  !  "  replied  Rose,  eagerly. 

"  No,  surely,"  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  my  days  are  drawing 
to  their  close  ;  and  may  mercy  be  shown  to  me  as  I  show  it 
to  others  !     What  can  I  do  to  save  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  Let  me  think,  ma'am,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  let  me  think." 

Mr.  Losberne  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  took 


220  OLIVER  TWIST. 

several  turns  up  and  down  the  room  ;  often  stopping,  and 
balancing  himself,  on  his  toes,  and  frowning  frightfully. 
After  various  exclamations  of  "  I've  got  it  now,"  and  "no,  I 
haven't,"  and  as  many  renewals  of  the  walking  and  frowning, 
he  at  length  made  a  dead  halt  and  spoke  as  follows: 

"  I  think  if  you  give  me  a  full  and  unlimited  commission 
to  bully  Giles,  and  that  little  boy  Brittles,  I  can  manage  it. 
Giles  is  a  faithful  fellow  and  an  old  servant,  I  know  ;  but 
you  can  make  it  up  to  him  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  reward 
him  for  being  such  a  good  shot  besides.  You  don't  object 
to  that  ?  " 

"  Unless  there  is  some  other  way  of  preserving  the  child," 
replied  Mrs.  Maylie. 

"  There  is  no  other,"  said  the  doctor.  "  No  other,  take 
my  word  for  it." 

"  Then  my  aunt  invests  you  with  full  power,"  said  Rose, 
smiling  through  her  tears  ;  "  but  pray  don't  be  harder  upon 
the  poor  fellows  than  is  indispensably  necessary." 

"You  seem  to  think,"  retorted  the  doctor,  "that  every 
body  is  disposed  to  be  hard-hearted  to-day,  except  yourseK, 
Miss  Rose.  I  only  hope,  for  the  sake  of  the  rising  male  sex 
generally,  that  you  may  be  found  in  as  vulnerable  and  soft- 
hearted a  mood  by  the  first  eligible  young  fellow,  who  ap- 
peals to  your  compassion  ;  and  I  wish  I  were  a  young  fel- 
low, that  I  might  avail  myself  on  the  spot  of  such  a  favora- 
ble opportunity  for  doing  so  as  the  present." 

"  You  are  as  great  a  boy  as  poor  Brittles  himself,"  returned 
Rose,  blushing. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  laughing  heartily,  "that  is  no 
very  difficult  matter.  But  to  return  to  this  boy.  The  great 
point  of  our  agreement  is  yet  to  come.  He  will  wake  in  an 
hour  or  so,  I  dare  say  ;  and  although  I  have  told  that  thick- 
headed constable  fellow  down  stairs  that  he  mustn't  be 
moved  or  spoken  to,  on  peril  of  his  life,  I  think  we  may 
converse  with  him  without  danger.  Now  I  make  this  stipu- 
lation— that  I  shall  examine  him  in  your  presence,  and  that 
if,  from  what  he  says,  we  judge,  and  I  can  show  to  the  satis- 
faction of  your  cool  reason,  that  he  is  a  real  and  thorough 
bad  one  (which  is  mor,e  than  possible),  he  shall  be  left  to  his 
fate,  without  any  further  interference  on  my  part,  at  all 
events." 

"Oh  no,  aunt !  "  entreated  Rose. 

"  O  yes,  aunt  !  "  said  the  doctor.     "  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  221 

"  He  can  not  be  hardened  in  vice,"  said  Rose.  "  It  is 
impossible." 

Very  good,"    retorted  the  doctor  ;  "  then  so  much  the 
more  reason  for  acceding  to  my  proposition." 

Finally  the  treaty  was  entered  into  ;  and  the  parties  there- 
unto sat  down  to  wait,  with  some  impatience,  until  Oliver 
should  awake. 

The  patience  of  the  two  ladies  was  destined  to  undergo  a 
longer  trial  than  Mr.  Losberne  had  led  them  to  expect  ;  for 
hour  after  hour  passed  on,  and  still  Oliver  slumbered  heav- 
ily. It  was  evening,  indeed,  before  the  kind-hearted  doctor 
brought  them  the  intelligence  that  he  was  at  length  suffic- 
iently restored  to  be  spoken  to.  The  boy  was  very  ill,  he 
said,  and  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood  ;  but  his  mind  was  so 
troubled  with  anxiety  to  disclose  something,  that  he  deemed 
if  better  to  give  him  the  opportunity,  than  to  insist  upon  his 
remaining  quiet  until  next  morning,  which  he  should  other- 
wise have  done. 

The  conference  was  a  long  one.  Oliver  told  them  all  his 
simple  history,  and  was  often  compelled  to  stop,  by  pain  and 
want  of  strength.  It  was  a  solemn  thing  to  hear,  in  the 
darkened  room,  the  feeble  voice  of  the  sick  child  recounting 
a  weary  catalogue  of  evils  and  calamities  which  hard  men 
had  brought  upon  him.  Oh  !  if,  when  we  oppress  and  grind 
our  fellow-creatures,  we  bestow  but  one  thought  on  the  dark 
evidences  of  human  error,  which,  like  dense  and  heavy 
clouds,  are  rising,  slowly,  it  is  true,  but  not  less  surely,  to 
Heaven,  to  pour  their  after-vengeance  on  our  heads  ;  if  we 
heard  but  one  instant,  in  imagination,  the  deep  testimony  of 
dead  men's  voices,  which  no  power  can  stifle,  and  no  pride 
shut  out ;  where  would  be  the  injury  and  injustice,  the  suf- 
fering, misery,  cruelty,  and  wrong,  that  each  day's  life 
brings  with  it  ! 

Oliver's  pillow  was  smoothed  by  gentle  hands  that  night  ; 
and  loveliness  and  virtue  watched  him  as  he  slept.  He 
felt  calm  and  happy,  and  could  have  died  without  a  murmur. 

The  momentous  interview  was  no  sooner  concluded,  and 
Oliver  composed  to  rest  again,  than  the  doctor,  after  wiping 
his  eyes,  and  condemning  them  for  being  weak  all  at  once, 
betook  himself  down  stairs  to  open  upon  Mr.  Giles.  And 
finding  nobody  about  the  parlors,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
could  perhaps  originate  the  proceedings  with  better  effect  in 
the  kitchen;  so  into  the  kitchen  he  went. 


222  OLIVER  TWIST. 

There  were  assembled,  in  that  lower  house  of  the  domes- 
tic Parliament,  the  women  servants,  Mr.  Brittles,  Mr.  Giles, 
the  tinker  (who  had  received  a  special  invitation  to  regale 
himself  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  in  consideration  of  his 
services),  and  the  constable.  The  latter  gentleman  had  a 
large  staff,  a  large  head,  large  features,  and  large  half -boots; 
and  he  looked  as  if  he  had  been  taking  a  proportionate  al- 
lowance of  ale — as  indeed  he  had. 

The  adventures  of  the  previous  night  were  still  under  dis- 
cussion ;  for  Mr.  Giles  was  expatiating  upon  his  presence  of 
mind,  when  the  doctor  entered  ;  Mr.  Brittles,  with  a  mug  of 
ale  in  his  hand,  was  corroborating  every  thing,  before  his 
superior  said  it. 

"Sit  still !  "  said  the  doctor,  waving  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Giles.  "  Misses  wished  some 
ale  to  be  given  out,  sir  ;  and,  as  I  felt  no  ways  inclined  for 
my  own  little  room,  sir,  and  was  disposed  for  company,  I 
am  taking  mine  among  'em  here." 

Brittles  headed  a  low  murmur,  by  which  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  generally  were  understood  to  express  the 
gratification  they  derived  from  Mr.  Giles's  condescension. 
Mr.  Giles  looked  around  with  a  patronizing  air,  as  much  as 
to  say  that,  so  long  as  they  behaved  properly,  he  would  nev- 
er desert  them. 

"  How  is  the  patient  to-night,  sir  ? "  asked  Giles. 

"  So-so  ;  "  returned  the  doctor.  "  I  am  afraid  you  have 
got  yourself  into  a  scrape  there,  Mr.  Giles." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  say,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Giles, 
trembling,  "  that  he's  going  to  die.  If  I  thought  it,  I  should 
never  be  happy  again.  I  wouldn't  cut  a  boy  off — no,  not 
even  Brittles  here — not  for  all  the  plate  in  the  country, 
sir." 

"  That's  not  the  point,"  said  the  doctor,  mysteriously. 
"  Mr.  Giles,  are  you  a  Protestant  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  hope  so,"  faltered  Mr.  Giles,  who  had  turned 
very  pale. 

"  And  what  are  you,  boy  ?"  said  the  doctor,  turning  sharp- 
ly upon  Brittles. 

"  Lord  bless  me,  sir  !  "  replied  Brittles,  starting  violently  ; 
"  I'm — the  same  as  Mr.  Giles,  sir." 

"Then  tell  me  this,"  said  the  doctor,  "both  of  you,  both 
of  you  !  Are  you  going  to  take  upon  yourselves  to  swear  that 
that  boy  up  stairs  is  the  boy  that  was  put  through  the  little 


OLIVER  TWIST.  223 

window  last  night  ?     Out  with  it  !     Come  !     We  are  pre- 
pared for  you  !  " 

The  doctor,  who  was  universally  considered  one  of  the 
best-tempered  creatures  on  earth,  made  this  demand  in  such 
a  dreadful  tone  of  anger,  that  Giles  and  Brittles,  who  were 
considerably  muddled  by  ale  and  excitement,  stared  at  each 
other  in  a  state  of  stupefaction. 

"  Pay  attention  to  the  reply,  constable,  will  you  ? "  said 
the  doctor,  shaking  his  forefinger  with  great  solemnity  of 
manner,  and  tapping  the  bridge  of  his  nose  with  it,  to  be- 
speak the  exercise  of  that  worthy's  utmost  acuteness. 
"  Something  may  come  of  this  before  long." 

The  constable  looked  as  wise  as  he  could,  and  took  up 
his  staff  of  office,  which  had  been  reclining  indolently  in 
the  chimney-corner. 

"  It's  a  simple  question  of  identity,  you  will  observe,"* 
said  the  doctor. 

"That's  what  it  is,  sir,"  replied  the  constable,  coughing 
with  great  violence  ;  for  he  had  finished  his  ale  in  a  hurry, 
and  some  of  it  had  gone  the  wrong  way. 

"  Here's  a  house  broken  into,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  a 
couple  of  men  catch  one  moment's  glimpse  of  a  boy  in  the 
midst  of  gun-powder  smoke,  and  in  all  the  distraction  of 
alarm  and  darkness.  Here's  a  boy  comes  to  that  very  same 
house  next  morning,  and  because  he  happens  to  have  his 
arm  tied  up,  these  men  lay  violent  hands  upon  him — by  do- 
ing which  they  place  his  life  in  great  danger — and  swear  he 
is  the  thief.  Now  the  question  is,  whether  these  men  are 
justified  by  the  fact  ;  if  not,  in  what  situation  do  they  place 
themselves  ?  " 

The  constable  nodded  profoundly.  He  said,  if  that 
wasn't  law,  he  would  be  glad  to  know  what  was. 

"  I  ask  you  again,"  thundered  the  doctor,  "  are  you,  on 
your  solemn  oaths,  able  to  identify  that  boy  ? " 

Brittles  looked  doubtfully  at  Mr.  Giles  ;  Mr.  Giles 
looked  doubtfully  at  Brittles  ;  the  constable  put  his  hand  be- 
hind his  ear  to  catch  the  reply  ;  the  two  women  and  the 
tinker  leaned  forward  to  listen  ;  the  doctor  glanced  keenly 
round  ;  when  a  ring  was  heard  at  the  gate,  and  at  the  same 
moment  the  sound  of  wheels. 

"  It's  the  runners  !  "  cried  Brittles,  to  all  appearance 
much  relieved. 

"  The  what  ?  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  aghast,  in  his  turn. 


224  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  The  Bow  Street  officers,  sir,"  replied  Brittles,  taking  up 
a  candle  ;  "  me  and  Mr.  Giles  sent  for  'em  this  morning." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Brittles  ;  "  I  sent  a  message  up  by  the 
coachman,  and  I  only  wonder  they  weren't  here  before, 
sir." 

"  You  did,  did  you  ?  Then  confound  your — slow  coaches 
down  here  ;  that's  all,"  said  the  doctor,  walking  away. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

INVOLVES   A   CRITICAL   POSITION. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  inquired  Brittles,  opening  the  door  a  lit- 
tle way  with  the  chain  up,  and  peeping  out,  shading  the 
candle  with  his  hand. 

"  Open  the  door,"  replied  a  man  outside  ;  "  it's  the 
officers  from  Bow  Street  as  was  sent  to  to-day." 

Much  comforted  by  this  assurance,  Brittles  opened  the 
door  to  its  full  width  and  confronted  a  portly  man  in  a  great 
coat,  who  walked  in  without  saying  any  thing  more,  and 
wiped  his  shoes  on  the  mat  as  coolly  as  if  he  lived  there. 

"  Just  send  somebody  out  to  relieve  my  mate,  will  you, 
young  man  ?  "  said  the  officer  ;  "he's  in  the  gig,  a-minding 
the  prad.  Have  you  got  a  coach-'us  here  that  you  could  put 
it  up  in  for  five  or  ten  minutes  ?  " 

Brittles  replying  in  the  affirmative,  and  pointing  out  the 
building,  the  portly  man  stepped  back  to  the  garden-gate 
and  helped  his  companion  to  put  up  the  gig,  while  Brittles 
lighted  them,  in  a  state  of  great  admiration.  This  done,  they 
returned  to  the  house,  and,  being  shown  into  a  parlor,  took 
off  their  great  coats  and  hats,  and  showed  like  what  they 
were. 

The  man  who  had  knocked  at  the  door  was  a  stout  per- 
sonage of  middle  height,  aged  about  fifty,  with  shiny  black 
hair  cropped  pretty  close,  half-whiskers,  a  round  face,  and 
sharp  eyes.  The  other  was  a  red-headed,  bony  man  in  top- 
boots,  with  a  rather  ill-favored  countenance,  and  a  turned- 
up,  sinister-looking  nose. 

"  Tell  your  governor  that  Blathers  and  Duff  is  here,  will 
you  ?  "  said  the  stouter  man,  smoothing  down  his  hair,  and 


OLIVER  TWIST.  225 

laying  a  pair  of  handcuffs  on  the  table.  "  Oh  !  good-even- 
ing, master.  Can  I  have  a  word  or  two  with  you  in  private, 
if  you,  please  ?  " 

This  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Losberne,  who  now  made  his 
appearance  ;  that  gentleman,  motioning  Brittles  to  retire, 
brought  in  the  two  ladies  and  shut  the  door. 

"This  is  the  lady  of  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Losberne,  mo- 
tioning toward  Mrs.  Maylie. 

Mr.  Blathers  made  a  bow.  Being  desired  to  sit  down,  he 
put  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and,  taking  a  chair,  motioned  Duff 
to  do  the  same.  The  latter  gentleman,  who  did  not  appear 
quite  so  much  accustomed  to  good  society,  or  quite  so  much 
at  his  ease  in  it — one  of  the  two — seated  himself,  after  un- 
dergoing several  muscular  affections  of  the  limbs,  and  forced 
the  head  of  his  stick  into  his  mouth,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  Now,  with  regard  to  this  here  robbery,  master,"  said 
Blathers.     "  What  are  the  circumstances  ?  " 

Mr.  Losberne,  who  appeared  desirous  of  gaining  time,  re- 
counted them  at  great  length,  and  with  much  circumlocu- 
tion. Messrs.  Blathers  and  Duff  looked  very  knowing 
meanwhile,  and  occasionally  exchanged  a  nod. 

"  I  can't  say  for  certain  till  I  see  the  work,  of  course," 
said  Blathers  ;  "  but  my  opinion  at  once  is — I  don't  mind 
committing  myself  to  that  extent — that  this  wasn't  done  by  a 
yokel— eh,  Duff  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Duff. 

"  And  translating  the  word  yokel  for  the  benefit  of  the 
ladies,  I  apprehend  your  meaning  to  be,  that  this  attempt 
was  not  made  by  a  countryman  ?  "  said  Mr.  Losberne,  with 
a  smile. 

"  That's  it,  master,"  replied  Blathers.  "  This  is  all  about 
the  robbery,  is  it  ? " 

"  All,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Now,  what  is  this  about  this  here  boy  that  the  servants 
are  a-talking  on  ? "  said  Blathers. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  One  of  the 
frightened  servants  chose  to  take  it  into  his  head  that  he  had 
something  to  do  with  this  attempt  to  break  into  the  house  ; 
but  it's  nonsense,  sheer  absurdity." 

"  Wery  easy  disposed  of,  if  it  is,"  remarked  Duff. 

"  What  he  says  is  quite  correct,"  observed  Blathers,  nod- 
ding his  head  in  a  confirmatory  way,  and  playing  carelessly 


226  OLIVER  TWIST. 

with  the  handcuffs  as  if  they  were  a  pair  of  castanets.  "  Who 
is  the  boy  ?  What  account  does  he  give  of  himself  ?  Where 
did  he  come  from  ?  He  didn't  drop  out  of  the  clouds,  did 
he,  master  ? " 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  a  nervous  glance 
at  the  two  ladies.  "  I  know  his  whole  history  ;  but  we  can 
talk  about  that  presently.  You  would  like  first  to  see  the 
place  where  the  thieves  made  their  attempt,  I  suppose  ? " 

"Certainly,"  rejoined  Mr.  Blathers.  "We  had  better  in- 
spect the  premises  first,  and  examine  the  servants  arterward. 
That's  the  usual  way  of  doing  business." 

Lights  were  then  procured  ;  and  Messrs.  Blathers  and 
Duff,  attended  by  the  native  constable,  Brittles,  Giles,  and 
every  body  else,  in  short,  went  into  the  little  room  at  the 
end  of  the  passage  and  lqoked  out  at  the  window,  and  after- 
ward went  round  by  way  of  the  lawn  and  lookei  in  at  the 
window  ;  and  after  that,  had  a  candle  handed  out  to  inspect 
the  shutter  with  ;  and  after  that,  a  lantern  to  trace  the  foot- 
steps with  ;  and  after  that,  a  pitchfork  to  poke  the  bushes 
with.  This  done,  amidst  the  breathless  interest  of  all  be- 
holders, they  came  in  again  ;  and  Mr.  Giles  and  Brittles 
were  put  through  a  melodramatic  representation  of  their 
share  in  the  previous  night's  adventures,  which  they  per- 
formed some  six  times  over,  contradicting  each  other  in  not 
more  than  one  important  respect  the  first  time,  and  in  not 
more  than  a  dozen  the  last.  This  consummation  being  ar- 
rived at,  Blathers  and  Duff  cleared  the  room  and  held  a  long 
council  together,  compared  with  which,  for  secrecy  and 
solemnity,  a  consultation  of  great  doctors  on  the  knottiest 
point  in  medicine  would  be  mere  child's  play. 

Meanwhile,  the  doctor  walked  up  and  down  the  next 
room  in  a  very  uneasy  state,  and  Mrs.  Maylie  and  Rose 
looked  on  with  anxious  faces. 

"  Upon  my  .word,"  he  said,  making  a  halt  after  a  great 
number  of  very  rapid  turns,  "  I  hardly  know  what  to  do." 

"  Surely,"  said  Rose,  "  the  poor  child's  story,  faithfully 
repeated  to  these  men,  will  be  sufficient  to  exonerate  him." 

"  I  doubt  it,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  doctor,  shak- 
ing his  head.  "  I  don't  think  it  would  exonerate  him,  either 
with  them  or  with  legal  functionaries  of  a  higher  grade. 
What  is  he,  after  all,  they  would  say  ?  A  runaway.  Judged 
by  mere  worldly  considerations  and  probabilities,  his  story 
is  a  very  doubtful  one." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  227 

"  You  believe  it,  surely  ?  "  interrupted  Rose. 

"  /  believe  it,  strange  as  it  is  ;  and  perhaps  I  may  be  an 
old  fool  for  doing  so,"  rejoined  the  doctor;  "but  I  don't 
think  it  is  exactly  the  tale  for  a  practiced  police  officer, 
nevertheless." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  Rose. 

"  Because,  my  pretty  cross-examiner,"  replied  the  doctor, 
"  because,  viewed  with  their  eyes,  there  are  many  ugly  points 
about  it  ;  he  can  only  prove  the  parts  that  look  ill,  and  none 
of  those  that  look  well.  Confound  the  fellows,  they  will 
have  the  why  and  the  wherefore,  and  will  take  nothing 
for  granted.  On  his  own  showing,  you  see,  he  has  been  the 
companion  of  thieves  for  some  time  past  ;  he  has  been  car- 
ried to  a  police-office  on  a  charge  of  picking  a  gentleman's 
pocket ;  he  has  been  taken  away  forcibly  from  that  gentle- 
man's house  to  a  place  which  he  can  not  describe  or  point 
out,  and  of  the  situation  of  which  he  has  not  the  remotest 
idea.  He  is  brought  down  to  Chertsey  by  men  who  seem  to 
have  taken  a  violent  fancy  to  him,  whether  he  will  or  no, 
and  is  put  through  a  window  to  rob  a  house  ;  and  then,  just 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  is  going  to  alarm  the  inmates, 
and  so  do  the  very  thing  that  would  set  him  all  to  rights, 
there  rushes  into  the  way  a  blundering  dog  of  a  half-bred 
butler  and  shoots  him  !  As  if  on  purpose  to  prevent  his 
doing  any  good  for  himself  !     Don't  you  see  all  this  ?  " 

"  I  see  it,  of  course,"  replied  Rose,  smiling  at  the  doctor's 
impetuosity  ;  "  but  still  I  do  not  see  any  thing  in  it  to 
criminate  the  poor  child." 

"No,"  replied  the  doctor;  "of  course  not!  Bless  the 
bright  eyes  of  your  sex  !  They  never  see,  whether  for  good 
or  bad,  more  than  one  side  of  any  question  ;  and  that  is 
always  the  one  which  first  presents  itself  to  them." 

Having  giving  vent  to  this  result  of  experience,  the  doc- 
tor put  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  walked  up  and  down 
the  room  with  even  greater  rapidity  than  before. 

"  The  more  I  think  of  it,"  said  the  doctor,  "  the  more  I 
see  that  it  will  occasion  endless  trouble  and  difficulty  if  we 
put  these  men  in  possession  of  the  boy's  real  story.  I  am 
certain  it  will  not  be  believed  ;  and  even  if  they  can  do 
nothing  to  him  in  the  end,  still  the  dragging  it  forward,  and 
giving  publicity  to  all  the  doubts  that  will  be  cast  upon  it, 
must  interfere  materially  with  your  benevolent  plan  of  res- 
cuing him  from  misery," 


228  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Oh  !  what  is  to  be  done  ?"  cried  Rose.  "  Dear,  dear! 
why  did  they  send  for  these  people  ?  " 

"  Why,  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Maylie.  "  I  would  not 
have  had  them  here  for  the  world." 

"  All  I  know  is,"  said  Mr.'  Losberne,  at  last  sitting  down 
with  a  kind  of  desperate  calmness,  "  that  we  must  try  and 
carry  it  off  with  a  bold  face.  The  object  is  a  good  one,  and 
that  must  be  our  excuse.  The  boy  has  strong  symptoms  of 
fever  upon  him,  and  is  in  no  condition  to  be  talked  to  any 
more  ;  that's  one  comfort.  We  must  make  the  best  of  it  ; 
and  if  bad  be  the  best,  it  is  no  fault  of  ours.     Come  in  !  " 

"  Well,  master,"   said  Blathers,   entering  the    room,   fol- 
lowed by  his  colleague,  and  making  the  door  fast  before  he' 
said  any  more.     "This  warn't  a  put-up  thing." 

"  And  what  the  devil's,  a  put-up  thing  ?  "  demanded  the 
doctor,  impatiently. 

V  We  call  it  a  put-up  robbery,  ladies,"  said  Blathers,  turn- 
ing  to  them,  as  if  he  pitied  their  ignorance,  but  had  a  con- 
tempt for  the  doctor's,  "when  the  servants  is  in  it." 

"  Nobody  suspected  them  in  this  case,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie. 

"  Wery  likely  not,  ma'am,"  replied  Blathers  ;  "  but  they 
might  have  been  in  it,  for  all  that." 

"  More  likely  on  that  wery  account,"  said  Duff. 

"We  find  it  was  a  town  hand,"  said  Blathers,  continuing 
his  report  ;  "  for  the  style  of  work  is  first-rate." 

"  Wery  pretty  indeed  it  is,"  remarked  Duff,  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"  There  was  two  of  'em,  in  it,"  continued  Blathers  ;  "and 
they  had  a  boy  with  'em  ;  that's  plain  from  the  size  of  the 
window.  That's  all  to  be  said  at  present.  We'll  see  this 
lad  that  you've  got  up  stairs  at  once,  if  you  please." 

"  Perhaps  they  will  take  something  to  drink,  first,  Mrs. 
Maylie?"  said  the  doctor,  his  face  brightening  as  if  some 
new  thought  had  occurred  to  him. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure  !  "  exclaimed  Rose,  eagerly.  "  You 
shall  have  it  immediately,  if  you  will." 

"  Why,  thank  you,  miss  ! "  said  Blathers,  drawing  his 
coat  sleeve  across  his  mouth  ;  "  it's  dry  work,  this  sort  of 
duty.  Any  thing  that's  handy,  miss  ;  don't  put  yourself  out 
of  the  way  on  our  accounts." 

"What  shall  it  be?"  asked  the  doctor,  following  the 
young  lady  to  the  sideboard. 

"  A  little  drop  of  spirits,  master,  if  it's  all  the  same,"  re« 


OLIVER  TWIST.  229 

plied  Blathers.  "  It's  a  cold  ride,  from  London,  ma'am  ; 
and  I  always  find  that  spirits  comes  home  warmer  to  the 
feelings." 

This  interesting  communication  was  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Maylie,  who  received  it  very  graciously.  While  it  was  being 
conveyed  to  her,  the  doctor  slipped  out  of  the  room. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Blathers  ;  not  holding  his  wineglass  by 
the  stem,  but  grasping  the  bottom  between  the  thumb  and 
forefinger  of  his  left  hand,  and  placing  it  in  front  of  his 
chest  ;  "  I  have  seen  a  good  many  pieces  of  business  like 
this  in  my  time,  ladies." 

"  That  crack  down  in  the  back  lane  at  Edmonton,  Blath- 
ers," said  Mr.  Duff,  assisting  his  colleague's  memory. 

"  That  was  something  in  this  way,  warn't  it  ?  "  rejoined 
Mr.  Blathers  ;  "  that  was  done  by  Conkey  Chickweed,  that 
was." 

"  You  always  gave  that  to  him,"  replied  Duff.  "  It  was 
the  Family  Pet,  1  tell  you.  Conkey  hadn't  any  more  to  do 
with  it  than  I  had." 

"  Get  out  !  "  retorted  Mr.  Blathers  ;  "  I  know  better.  Do 
you  mind  that  time  when  Conkey  was  robbed  of  his  money, 
though  ?  What  a  start  that  was  !  Better  than  any  novel  book 
/  ever  see  !  " 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Rose  :  anxious  to  encourage 
any  symptoms  of  good  humor  in  the  unwelcome  visitors. 

*'  It  was  a  robbery,  miss,  that  hardly  any  body  would  have 
been  down  upon,"  said  Blathers.  "  This  here  Conkey 
Chickweed — " 

"  Conkey  means  Nosey,  ma'am,"  interposed  Duff". 

"  Of  course  the  lady  knows  that,  don't  she  ? "  demanded 
Mr.  Blathers.  "  Always  interrupting,  you  are,  partner  !  This 
here  Conkey  Chickweed,  miss,  kept  a  public  house  over 
Battlebridge  way,  and  he  had  a  cellar,  where  a  good  many 
young  lords  went  to  see  cock-fighting,  and  badger-drawing, 
and  that  ;  and  a  wery  intellectual  manner  the  sports  was 
conducted  in,  for  I've  seen  'em  off 'en.  He  warn't  one  of 
the  family  at  that  time  ;  and  one  night  he  was  robbed  of 
three  hundred  and  twenty-seven  guineas  in  a  canvas  bag, 
that  was  stole  out  of  his  bedroom  in  the  dead  of  night,  by  a 
tall  man  with  a  black  patch  over  his  eye,  who  had  conceal- 
ed himself  under  the  bed,  and  after  committing  the  robbery, 
jumped  slap  out  of  window,  which  was  only  a  story  high. 
He.  was  wery  quick  about  it.     But  Conkey  was  quick,  too  ; 


230  OLIVER  TWIST. 

for  he  was  woke  by  the  noise,  and  darting  out  of  bed,  he 
fired  a  blunderbuss  arter  him,  and  roused  the  neighborhood. 
They  set  up  a  hue-and-cry  directly,  and  when  they  came  to 
look  about  'em,  found  that  Conkey  had  hit  the  robber  ;  for 
there  was  traces  of  blood  all  the  way  to  some  palings  a  good 
distance  off  ;  and  there  they  lost  'em.  However,  he  had 
made  off  with  the  blunt ;  and,  consequently,  the  name  of 
Mr.  Chickweed,  licensed  witler,  appeared  in  the  Gazette 
among  the  other  bankrupts  ;  and  all  manner  of  benefits  and 
subscriptions,  and  I  don't  know  what  all,  was  got  up  for  the 
poor  man,  who  was  in  a  wery  low  state  of  mind  about  his 
loss,  and  went  up  and  down  the  streets,  for  three  or  four 
days,  a  pulling  his  hair  off  in  such  a  desperate  manner  that 
many  people  was  afraid  he  might  be  going  to  make  away 
with  himself.  One  day  he  came  up  to  the  office,  all  in  a 
hurry,  and  had  a  private  interview  with  the  magistrate,  who, 
after  a  deal  of  talk,  rings  the  bell,  and  orders  Jem  Spyers 
in  (Jem  was  a  active  officer),  and  tells  him  to  go  and  assist 
Mr.  Chickweed  in  apprehending  the  man  as  robbed  his 
house.  '  I  see  him,  Spyers,'  said  Chickweed,  '  pass  my  house 
yesterday  morning.'  '  Why  didn't  you  up,  and  collar  him  ?  " 
says  Spyers.  '  I  was  so  struck  all  of  a  heap,  that  you  might 
have  fractured  my  skull  with  a  tooth- pick,'  says  the  poor 
man  ;  '  but  we're  sure  to  have  him  ;  for  between  ten  and 
eleven  o'clock  at  night  he  passed  again.'  Spyers  no  sooner 
heard  this  than  he  put  some  clean  linen  and  a  comb  in  his 
pocket,  in  case  he  should  have  to  stop  a  day  or  two  ;  and 
away  he  goes,  and  sets  himself  down  at  one  of  the  public- 
house  windows  behind  the  little  red  curtain,  with  his  hat  on, 
all  ready  to  bolt  out  at  a  moment's  notice.  He  was  smok- 
ing his  pipe  here,  late  at  night,  when  all  of  a  sudden  Chick- 
weed  roars  out,  '  Here  he  is  !  Stop  thief !  Murder  ! '  Jem 
Spyers  dashes  out  ;  and  there  he  sees  Chickweed,  a-tearing 
down  the  street  full  cry.  Away  goes  Spyers  ;  on  goes  Chick- 
weed  ;  round  turns  the  people ;  every  body  roars  out, 
1  Thieves  !  '  and  Chickweed  himself  keeps  on  shouting,  all 
the  time,  like  mad.  Spyers  loses  sight  of  him  a  minute  as 
he  turns  a  corner  ;  shoots  round  ;  sees  a  little  crowd  ;  dives 
in  ;  '  Which  is  the  man  ? '  '  D —  me  !  'says  Chickweed,  '  I've 
lost  him  again  !  '  It  was  a  remarkable  occurrence,  but  he 
warn't  to  be  seen  nowhere,  so  they  went  back  to  the  public 
house.  Next  morning,  Spyers  took  his  old  place,  and  look- 
ed out  from  behind  the  curtain  for  a  tall  man  with  a  black 


OLIVER  TWIST.  237 

patch  over  his  eye,  till  his  own  two  eyes  ached  again.  At 
last  he  couldn't  help  shutting  'em,  to  ease  'em  a  minute  ; 
and  the  very  moment  he  did  so,  he  hears  Chickweed  a-roar- 
ing  out,  '  Here  he  is !  '  Off  he  starts  once  more,  with  Chick- 
weed  half  way  down  the  street  ahead  of  him  ;  and  after 
twice  as  long  a  run  as  the  yesterday's  one,  the  man's  lost 
again  !  This  was  done,  once  or  twice  more,  till  one-half  the 
neighbors  gave  out  that  Mr.  Chickweed  had  been  robbed  by 
the  devil,  who  was  playing  tricks  with  him  arterward  ;  and 
the  other  half,  that  poor  Mr.  Chickweed  had  gone  mad  with 
grief." 

"  What  did  Jem  Spyers  say  ? "  inquired  the  doctor  ;  who 
had  returned  to  the  room  shortly  after  the  commencement 
of  the  story. 

"  Jem  Spyers,"  resumed  the  officer,  "  for  a  long  time  said 
nothing  at  all,  and  listened  to  every  thing  without  seeming 
to,  which  showed  he  understood  his  business.  But,  one  morn- 
ing, he  walked  into  the  bar,  and  taking  out  his  snuff-box, 
says/  Chickweed,  I've  found  out  who  done  this  here  rob- 
bery.' '  Have  you  ? '  said  Chickweed.  '  Oh,  my  dear  Spyers, 
only  let  me  have  wengeance,  and  I  shall  die  contented  ! 
Oh,  my  dear  Spyers,  where  is  the  villain  ! '  '  Come  ! '  said 
Spyers,  offering  him  a  pinch  of  snuff,  '  none  of  that  gammon  ! 
You  did  it  yourself.'  So  he  had  ;  and  a  good  bit  of  money 
he  had  made  by  it,  too  ;  and  nobody  would  never  have 
found  it  out,  if  he  hadn't  been  so  precious  anxious  to  keep 
up  appearances,"  said  Mr.  Blathers,  putting  down  his  wine- 
glass, and  clinking  the  handcuffs  together. 

"  Very  curious,  indeed,"  observed  the  doctor.  "  Now,  if 
you  please,  you  can  walk  up  stairs." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Blathers.  Closely  fol- 
lowing Mr.  Losberne,  the  two  officers  ascended  to  Oliver's 
bedroom  ;  Mr.  Giles  preceding  the  party  with  a  lighted 
candle. 

Oliver  had  been  dozing  ;  but  looked  worse,  and  was  more 
feverish  than  he  had  appeared  yet.  Being  assisted  by  the 
doctor,  he  managed  to  sit  up  in  bed  for  a  minute  or  so  ;  and 
looked  at  the  strangers  without  at  all  understanding  what 
was  going  forward — in  fact,  without  seeming  to  recollect 
where  he  was,  or  what  had  been  passing. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Losberne,  speaking  softly,  but  with 
great  vehemence  notwithstanding,  "  this  is  the  lad,  who,  be* 
ing  accidentally  wounded  by   a   spring-gun  in  some  boyish 


232  OLIVER  TWIST. 

trespass  on  Mr.  What-d'ye-call-him's  grounds  at  the  back 
here,  comes  to  the  house  for  assistance  this  morning,  and  is 
immediately  laid  hold  of  and  maltreated  by  that  ingenious 
gentleman  with  the  candle  in  his  hand,  who  has  placed  his 
life  in  considerable  danger,  as  I  can  professionally  certify." 

Messrs.  Blathers  and  Duff  looked  at  Mr.  Giles,  as  he  was 
thus  recommended  to  their  notice.  The  bewildered  butler 
gazed  from  them  toward  Oliver,  and  from  Oliver  toward 
Mr.  Losberne,  with  a  most  ludicrous  mixture  of  fear  and 
perplexity. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  deny  that,  I  suppose  ? "  said  the 
doctor,  laying  Oliver  gently  down  again. 

"  It  was  all  done  for  the — for  the  best,  sir,"  answered 
Giles.  "  I  am  sure  I  thought  it  was  the  boy,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  meddled  with  him.  I  am  not  of  an  inhuman  disposi- 
tion, sir." 

"  Thought  it  was  what  boy  ? "  inquired  the  senior  officer. 

"  The  house-breaker's  boy,  sir  !  "  replied  Giles.  "  They 
- — they  certainly  had  a  boy." 

"  Well  ?  Do  you  think  so  now  ?  "  inquired  Blathers. 

"  Think  what,  now  ?  "  replied  Giles,  looking  vacantly  at 
his  questioner. 

"  Think  it's  the  same  boy,  Stupid-head  ?  "  rejoined  Blath- 
ers, impatiently. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  really  don't  know,"  said  Giles,  with  a 
rueful  countenance.     "  I  couldn't  swear  to  him." 

"  What  do  you  think  ? "  asked  Mr.  Blathers. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  replied  poor  Giles.  "  I 
don't  think  it  is  the  boy  ;  indeed,  I'm  almost  certain  that 
it  isn't.     You  know  it  can't  be." 

"  Has  this  man  been  a-drinking,  sir  ? "  inquired  Blathers, 
turning  to  the  doctor. 

"  What  a  precious  muddle-headed  chap  you  are  !  "  said 
Duff,  addressing  Mr.  Giles,  with  supreme  contempt. 

Mr.  Losberne  had  been  feeling  the  patient's  pulse  during 
this  short  dialogue  ;  but  he  now  rose  from  the  chair  by  the 
bedside,  and  remarked,  that  if  the  officers  had  any  doubts 
upon  the  subject,  they  would  perhaps  like  to  step  into  the 
next  room,  and  have  Brittles  before  them. 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  they  adjourned  to  a  neigh- 
boring apartment,  where  Mr.  Brittles,  being  called  in,  in- 
volved himself  and  his  respected  superior  in  such  a  wonder- 
ful maze  of  fresh  contradictions  and  impossibilities  as  tend- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  233 

ed  to  throw  no  particular  light  on  any  thing  but  the  fact  of 
his  own  strong  mystification  ;  except,  indeed,  his  declara- 
tions that  he  shouldn't  know  the  real  boy  if  foe  were  put  be- 
fore him  that  instant  ;  that  he  had  only  taken  Oliver  to  be 
he,  because  Mr.  Giles  had  said  he  was  ;  and  that  Mr.  Giles 
had,  five  minutes  previously,  admitted  in  the  kitchen  that 
he  began  to  be  very  much  afraid  he  had  been  a  little  too 
hasty. 

Among  other  ingenious  surmises,  the  question  was  then 
raised,  whether  Mr.  Giles  had  really  hit  any  body  ;  and  up- 
on examination  of  the  fellow  pistol  to  that  which  he  had 
fired,  it  turned  out  to  have  no  more  destructive  loading  than 
gunpowder  and  brown  paper  :  a  discovery  which  made  a 
considerable  impression  on  every  body  but  the  doctor,  who 
had  drawn  the  ball  about  ten  minutes  before.  Upon  no 
one,  however,  did  it  make  a  greater  impression  than  on  Mr. 
Giles  himself  ;  who,  after  laboring,  for  some  hours,  under 
the  fear  of  having  mortally  wounded  a  fellow-creature,  eag- 
erly caught  at  this  new  idea,  and  favored  it  to  the  utmost. 
Finally,  the  officers,  without  troubling  themselves  very  much 
about  Oliver,  left  the  Chertsey  constable  in  the  house,  and 
took  up  their  rest  for  that  night  in  the  town,  promising  to 
return  next  morning. 

With  the  next  morning,  there  came  a  rumor  that  two  men 
and  a  boy  were  in  the  cage  at  Kingston,  who  had  been  ap- 
prehended overnight  under  suspicious  circumstances  ;  and 
to  Kingston  Messrs.  Blathers  and  Duff  journeyed  ac- 
cordingly. The  suspicious  circumstances,  however,  re- 
solving themselves,  on  investigation,  into  the  one  fact, 
that  they  had  been  discovered  sleeping  under  a  hay  stack  ; 
which,  although  a  great  crime,  is  only  punishable  by  imprison- 
ment, and  is,  in  the  merciful  eye  of  the  English  law,  and  its 
comprehensive  love  of  all  the  king's  subjects,  held  to  be  no 
satisfactory  proof,  in  the  absence  of  all  other  evidence,  that 
the  sleeper,  or  sleepers,  have  committed  burglary  accompa- 
nied with  violence,  and  have  therefore  rendered  themselves 
liable  to  the  punishment  of  death  ;  Messrs.  Blathers  and 
Duff  came  back  again,  as  wise  as  they  went. 

In  short,  after  some  more  examination, and  a  great  deal  more 
conversation,^,  neighboring  magistrate  was  readily  induced 
to  take  the  joint  bail  of  Mrs.  Maylie  and  Mr.  Losberne  for 
Oliver's  appearance  if  he  should  ever  be  called  upon  ;  and 
Blathers  and  Duff,  being  rewarded  with  a  couple  of  guineas, 


234  OLIVER  TWIST. 

returned  to  town  with  divided  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
their  expedition  :  the  latter  gentleman,  on  a  mature  consid- 
eration of  all  the  circumstances,  inclining  to  the  belief  that 
the  burglarious  attempt  had  originated  with  the  Family  Pet ; 
and  the  former  being  equally  disposed  to  concede  the  full 
merits  of  it  to  the  great  Mr.  Conkey  Chickweed. 

Meanwhile,  Oliver  gradually  throve  and  prospered  under 
the  united  care  of  Mrs.  Maylie,  Rose,  and  the  kind-hearted 
Mr.  Losberne.  If  fervent  prayers,  gushing  from  hearts  over- 
charged with  gratitude,  be  heard  in  heaven — and  if  they  be 
not,  what  prayers  are  ! — the  blessings  which  the  orphan  child 
called  down  upon  them  sunk  into  their  souls,  diffusing  peace 
and  happiness. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

OF     THE    HAPPY     LIFE   OLIVER   BEGAN     TO    LEAD     WITH     HIS 
KIND    FRIENDS. 

Oliver's  ailings  were  neither  slight  nor  few.  In  addition 
to  the  pain  and  delay  attendant  on  a  broken  limb,  his  ex- 
posure to  the  wet  and  cold  had  brought  on  fever  and  ague  ; 
which  hung  about  him  for  many  weeks,  and  reduced  him 
sadly.  But  at  length  he  began,  by  slow  degrees,  to  get  better, 
and  to  be  able  to  say,  sometimes,  in  a  few  tearful  words, 
how  deeply  he  felt  the  goodness  of  the  two  sweet  ladies,  and 
how  ardently  he  hoped  that  when  he  grew  strong  and  well 
again,  he  could  do  something  to  show  his  gratitude  ;  only 
something  which  would  let  them  see  the  love  and  duty  with 
which  his  breast  was  full  ;  something,  however  slight,  which 
would  prove  to  them  that  their  gentle  kindness  had  not  been 
cast  away  ;  but  that  the  poor  boy  whom  their  charity  had 
rescued  from  misery  or  death  was  eager  to  serve  them  with 
his  whole  heart  and  soul. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Rose,  when  Oliver  had  been  one  day 
feebly  endeavoring  to  utter  the  words  of  thankfulness  that 
rose  to  his  pale  lips  ;  "  you  shall  have  many  opportunities  ot 
serving  us,  if  you  will.  We  are  going  into  the  country,  and 
my  aunt  intends  that  you  shall  accompany  us.  The  quiet 
place,  the  pure- air,  and  all  the  pleasures  and  beauties  of 
spring,  will  restore  you  in  3  few  days.  We  will  employ  you 
in  a  hundred  ways,  when  you  can  bear  the  trouble." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  235 

"  The  trouble  !  "  cried  Oliver.  "  Oh  !  dear  lady,  if  I 
could  but  work  for  you  ;  if  I  could  only  give  you  pleasure  by 
watering  your  flowers,  or  watching  your  birds,  or  running 
up  and  down  the  whole  day  long,  to  make  you  happy  ;  what 
would  I  give  to  do  it  !  " 

"  You  shall  give  nothing  at  all,"  said  Miss  Maylie,  smil- 
ing ;  "  for,<  as  I  told  you  before,  we  shall  employ  you  in  a 
hundred  ways  ;  and  if  you  only  take  half  the  trouble  to  please 
us  that  you  promise  now,  you  will  make  me  very  happy 
indeed." 

"  Happy,  ma'am  !  "  cried  Oliver  ;  "  how  kind  of  you  to 
say  so  !  " 

"  You  will  make  me  happier  than  I  can  tell  you,"  replied 
the  young  lady.  "  To  think  that  my  dear  good  aunt  should 
have  been  the  means  of  rescuing  any  one  from  such  sad  mis- 
ery as  you  have  described  to  us,  would  be  an  unspeakable 
pleasure  to  me  ;  but  to  know  that  the  object  of  her  goodness 
and  compassion  was  sincerely  grateful  and  attached  in  con- 
sequence, would  delight  me  more  than  you  can  well  imagine. 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  "  she  inquired,  watching  Oliver's 
thoughtful  face. 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  yes  !  "  replied  Oliver,  eagerly  ;  "  but  I 
was  thinking  that  I  am  ungrateful  now." 

"  To  whom  ?  "  inquired  the  young  lady. 

"  To  the  kind  gentleman  and  the  dear  old  nurse  who  took 
so  much  care  of  me  before,"  rejoined  Oliver.  "  If  they  knew 
how  happy  I  am,  they  would  be  pleased,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  am  sure  they  would,"  rejoined  Oliver's  benefactress  ; 
"  and  Mr.  Losberne  has  already  been  kind  enough  to  prom- 
ise that  when  you  are  well  enough  to  bear  the  journey,  he 
will  carry  you  to  see  them." 

"  Has  he,  ma'am  ?  "  cried  Oliver,  his  face  brightening 
with  pleasure.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  for  joy  when 
I  see  their  kind  faces  once  again." 

In  a  short  time  Oliver  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  undergo 
the  fatigue  of  this  expedition.  One  morning  he  and  Mr. 
Losberne  set  out,  accordingly,  in  a  little  carriage  which 
belonged  to  Mrs.  Maylie.  When  they  came  to  Chertsey 
Bridge,  Oliver  turned  very  pale,  and  uttered  a  loud  excla- 
mation. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  boy  ? "  cried  the  doctor  ;  as 
usual,  all  in  a  bustle.  "  Do  you  see  any  thing — hear  any 
thing — feel  any  thing — eh  ?  " 


236  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  That,  sir,"  cried  Oliver,  pointing  out  of  the  carriage 
window.     "  That  house  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  well,  what  of  it  ?  Stop,  coachman.  Pull  up  here," 
cried  the  doctor.     "  What  of  the  house,  my  man  ;  eh  ?  " 

"  The  thieves — the  house  they  took  me  to  !  "  whispered 
Oliver. 

"  The  devil  it  is  !  "  cried  the  doctor.  "  Halloo,  there! 
let  me  out !  " 

But,  before  the  coachman  could  dismount  from  his  box, 
he  bad  tumbled  out  of  the  coach  by  some  means  or  other  ; 
and,  running  down  to  the  deserted  tenement,  began  kicking 
at  the  door  like  a  madman. 

"  Halloo  !  "  said  a  little  ugly  humpbacked  man,  opening 
the  door  so  suddenly  that  the  doctor,  from  the  very  impetus 
of  his  last  kick,  nearly  fell  forward  into  the  passage.  "  What's 
the  matter  here  ?  " 

"  Matter  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  collaring  him,  without  a 
moment's  reflection.    "  A  good  deal.    Robbery  is  the  matter." 

"There'll  be  murder  the  matter,  too,"  replied  the  hump- 
backed man,  coolly,  "  if  you  don't  take  your  hands  off.  Do 
you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  I  hear  you,"  said  the  doctor,  giving  his  captive  a  hearty 
shake.  "Where's — confound  the  fellow,  what's  his  rascally 
name  ? — Sikes  ;  that's  it.     Where's  Sikes,  you  thief  ?" 

The  humpbacked  man  stared,  as  if  in  excess  of  amaze- 
ment and  indignation  ;  then  twisting  himself  dextrously 
from  the  doctor's  grasp,  growled  forth  a  volley  of  horrid 
oaths,  and  retired  into  the  house.  Before  he  could  shut  the 
door,  however,  the  doctor  had  passed  into  the  parlor  without 
a  word  of  parley.  He  looked  anxiously  round  ;  not  an  ar- 
ticle of  furniture  ;  not  a  vestige  of  any  thing,  animate  or  in- 
animate— not  even  the  position  of  the  cupboards,  answered 
Oliver's  description. 

"  Now  !  "  said  the  humpbacked  man,  who  had  watched 
him  keenly,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  coming  into  my  house 
in  this  violent  way  ?  Do  you  want  to  rob  me,  or  to  murder 
me?  Which  is  it  ?"' 

"  Did  you  ever  know  a  man  come  out  to  do  either  in  a 
chariot  and  pair,  you  ridiculous  old  vampire  ?  "  said  the  irri- 
table doctor. 

"  What*  do  you  want,  then  ?  "  demanded  the  hunchback. 
"  Will  you  take  yourself  off  before  I  do  you  a  mischief  ? 
Curse  you !  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  237 

"  As  soon  as  I  think  proper,"  said  Mr.  Losberne,  looking 
into  the  other  parlor  ;  which,  like  the  first,  bore  no  resem- 
blance whatever  to  Oliver's  account  of  it.  "  I  shall  find  you 
out  some  day,  my  friend."  m 

"  Will  you  ?  "  sneered  the  ill-favored  cripple.  "  If  you 
ever  want  me,  I'm  here.  I  haven't  lived  here  mad  and  all 
alone  for  five-and-twenty  years,  to  be  scared  by  you.  You 
shall  pay  for  this  ;  you  shall  pay  for  this."  And  so  saying, 
the  misshapen  little  demon  set  up  a  yell,  and  danced  upon 
the  ground  as  if  wild  with  rage. 

"  Stupid  enough,  this  !  "  muttered  the  doctor  to  himself  ; 
"  the  boy  must  have  made  a  mistake.  Here  !  put  that  in 
your  pocket,  and  shut  yourself  up  again."  With  these  words 
he  flung  the  hunchback  a  piece  of  money,  and  returned  to 
the  carriage. 

The  man  followed  to  the  chariot  door,  uttering  the  wildest 
imprecations  and  curses  all  the  way  ;  but  as  Mr.  Losberne 
turned  to  speak  to  the  driver,  he  looked  into  the  carriage, 
and  eyed  Oliver  for  an  instant  with  a  glance  so  sharp,  fierce, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  furious  and  vindictive,  that,  waking  or 
sleeping,  he  could  not  forget  it  for  months  afterward.  He 
continued  to  utter  the  most  fearful  imprecations,  until  the 
driver  had  resumed  his  seat ;  and  when  they  were  once 
more  on  their  way,  they  could  see  him  some  distance  behind, 
beating  his  fist  upon  the  ground  and  tearing  his  hair,  in 
transports  of  real  or  pretended  rage. 

"  I  am  an  ass  !  "  said  the  doctor,  after  a  long  silence. 
"  Did  you  know  that  before,  Oliver  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  don't  forget  it  another  time." 

"  An  ass,"  said  the  doctor  again,  after  a  further  silence  of 
some  minutes.  "  Even  if  it  had  been  the  right  place,  and 
the  right  fellows  had  been  there,  what  could  I  have  done 
single-handed  ?  And  if  I  had  had  assistance,  I  see  no  good 
that  I  should  have  done,  except  leading  to  my  own  exposure, 
and  an  unavoidable  statement  of  the  manner  in  which  I  have 
hushed  up  this  business.  That  would  have  served  me  right, 
though.  I  am  always  involving  myself  in  some  scrape  or 
other  by  acting  on  impulse.  It  might  have  done  me 
good." 

Now  the  fact  was,  that  the  excellent  doctor  had  never 
acted  upon  any  thing  but  impulse  all  through  his  life,  and  it 
was  no  bad  compliment  to  the  nature  of  the  impulses  which 


238  OLIVER  TWIST. 

governed  him,  that,  so  far  from  being  involved  in  any  pecu- 
liar troubles  or  misfortunes,  he  had  the  warmest  respect  and 
esteem  of  all  who  knew  him.  If  the  truth  must  be  told,  he 
was  a  little  out  of  temper  for  a  minute  or  two,  at  being  dis- 
appointed in  procuring  corroborative  evidence  of  Oliver's 
story,  on  the  very  first  occasion  on  which  he  had  a  chance 
of  obtaining  any.  He  soon  came  round  again,  however  ; 
and  finding  that  Oliver's  replies  to  his  questions  were  still 
as  straightforward  and  consistent,  and  still  delivered  with 
as  much  apparent  sincerity  and  truth  as  they  had  ever  been, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  attach  full  credence  to  them,  from 
that  time  forth. 

•  As  Oliver  knew  the  name  of  the  street  in  which 
Mr.  Brownlow  resided,  they  were  enabled  to  drive  straight 
thither.  When  the  coach  turned  into  it,  his  heart  beat  so 
violently  that  he  could  scarcely  draw  his  breath. 

"  Now,  my  boy,  which  house  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Los- 
berne. 

"  That !  That !  "  replied  Oliver,  pointing  eagerly  out  of 
the  window.  "  The  white  house.  Oh  !  make  haste  !  Pray, 
make  haste  !  I  feel  as  if  I  should  die  ;  it  makes  me  tremble 
so." 

"  Come,  come  !  "  said  the  good  doctor,  patting  him  on  the 
shoulder.  "  You  will  see  them  directly,  and  they  will  be 
overjoyed  to  find  you  safe  and  well." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so  !  "  cried  Oliver.  "  They  were  so  good  to 
me  ;  so  very,  very  good  to  me  !  " 

The  coach  rolled  on.  It  stopped.  No  :  that  was  the 
wrong  house  ;  the  next  door.  It  went  on  a  few  paces,  and 
stopped  again.  Oliver  looked  up  at  the  windows,  with  tears 
of  happy  expectation  coursing  down  his  face. 

Alas  !  the  white  house  was  empty,  and  there  was  a  bill  in 
the  window—"  To  Let." 

"  Knock  at  the  next  door,"  cried  Mr.  Losberne,  taking 
Oliver's  arm  in  his.  "  What  has  become  of  Mr.  Brownlow, 
who  used  to  live  in  the  adjoining  house,  do  you  know  ? " 

The  servant  did  not  know,  but  would  go  and  inquire.  She 
presently  returned,  and  said  that  Mr.  Brownlow  had  sold  off 
his  goods  and  gone  to  the  West  Indies  six  weeks  before. 
Oliver  clasped  his  hands,  and  sank  feebly  backward. 

"Has   his  housekeeper  gone,  too?"  inquired  Mr.  Los 
berne,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  servant.     "  The  old  gentleman,  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  239 

housekeeper,  and  a  gentleman  who  was  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Brownlow's,  all  went  together."  • 

"  Then  turn  toward  home  again,"  said  Mr.  Losberne  to 
the  driver  ;  "  and  don't  stop  to  bait  the  horses  till  you  get 
out  of  this  confounded  London  !  " 

"  The  book-stall  keeper,  sir  ?  "  said  Oliver.  "  I  know  the 
way  there.     See  him,  pray,  sir  !  Do  see  him  !  " 

"  My  poor  boy,  this  is  disappointment  enough  for  one 
day,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Quite  enough  for  both  of  us.  If 
we  go  to  the  book-stall  keeper's,  we  shall  certainly  find  that 
he  is  dead,  or  has  set  his  house  on  fire,  or  run  away.  No  ; 
home  again  straight  !  "  And  in  obedience  to  the  doctor's  im- 
pulse home  they  went. 

This  bitter  disappointment  caused  Oliver  much  sorrow 
and  grief,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  happiness  ;  for  he  had 
pleased  himself,  many  times  during  his  illness,  with  thinking 
of  all  that  Mr.  Brownlow  and  Mrs.  Bedwin  would  say  to 
him,  and  what  delight  it  would  be  to  tell  them  how  many 
long  days  and  nights  he  had  passed  in  reflecting  on  what 
they  had  done  for  him,  and  in  bewailing  his  cruel  separation 
from  them.  The  hope  of  eventually  clearing  himself  with 
them,  too,  and  explaining  how  he  had  been  forced  away,  had 
buoyed  him  up,  and  sustained  him,  under  many  of  his  recent 
trials  ;  and  now,  the  idea  that  they  should  have  gone  so  far, 
and  carried  with  them  the  belief  that  he  was  an  impostor  and 
a  robber — a  belief  which  might  remain  uncontradicted  to 
his  dying  day — was  almost  more  than  he  could  bear. 

The  circumstance  occasioned  no  alteration,  however,  in 
the  behavior  of  his  benefactors.  After  another  fortnight, 
when  the  fine  warm  weather  had  fairly  begun,  and  every  tree 
and  flower  was  putting  forth  its  young  leaves  and  rich  blos- 
soms, they  made  preparations  for  quitting  the  house  at 
Chertsey  for  some  months.  Sending  the  plate,  which  had  so 
excited  Fagin's  cupidity,  to  the  banker's  ;  and  leaving  Giles 
and  another  servant  in  care  of  the  house,  they  departed  to  a 
cottage  at  some  distance  in  the  country,  and  took  Oliver  with 
them. 

Who  can  describe  the  pleasure  and  delight,  the  peace  of 
mind  and  soft  tranquillity,  the  sickly  boy  felt  in  the  balmy 
air,  and  among  the  green  hills  and  rich  woods  of  an  inland 
village  !  Who  can  tell  how  scenes  of  peace  and  quietude 
sink  into  the  minds  of  pain-worn  dwellers  in  close  and  noisy 
places,  and  carry  their  own  freshness  deep  into  their  jaded 


240  OLIVER  TWIST. 

hearts  !  Men  who  have  lived  in  crowded,  pent-up  streets, 
through'lives  of  toil,  and  who  have  never  wished  for  change; 
men,  to  whom  custom  has  indeed  been  second  nature,  and 
who  have  come  almost  to  love  each  brick  and  stone  that 
formed  the  narrow  boundaries  of  their  daily  walks  ;  even 
they,  with  the  hand  of  death  upon  them,  have  been  known 
to  yearn  at  last  for  one  short  glimpse  of  Nature's  face  ;  and, 
carried  from  the  scenes  of  their  old  pains  and  pleasures, 
have  seemed  to  pass  at  once  into  a  new  state  of  being. 
Crawling  forth  from  day  to  day,  to  some  green  sunn^Pspot, 
they  have  had  such  memories  wakened  up  within  them  by  the 
sight  of  sky,  and  hill  and  plain,  and  glistening  water,  that  a 
foretaste  of  heaven  itself  has  soothed  their  quick  decline, 
and  they  have  sunk  into  their  tombs  as  peacefully  as  the 
sun,  whose  setting  they  watched  from  their  lonely  chamber 
window  but  a  few  hours  before,  faded  from  their  dim  and 
feeble  sight  !  The  memories  which  peaceful  country  scenes 
call  up  are  not  of  this  world,  nor  of  its  thoughts  and  hopes. 
Their  gentle  influence  may  teach  us  how  to  weave  fresh 
garlands  for  the  graves  of  those  we  loved — may  purify  our 
thoughts,  and  bear  down  before  it  old  enmity  and  hatred  ; 
but  beneath  all  this  there  lingers,  in  the  least  reflective  mind, 
a  vague  and  half-formed  consciousness  of  having  held  such 
feelings  long  before,  in  some  remote  and  distant  time,  which 
calls  up  solemn  thoughts  of  distant  times  to  come,  and  bends 
down  pride  and  worldliness  beneath  it. 

It  was  a  lovely  spot  to  which  they  repaired.  Oliver, 
whose  days  had  been  spent  among  squalid  crowds,  and  in 
the  midst  of  noise  and  brawling,  seemed  to  enter  on  a  new 
existence  there.  The  rose  and  honeysuckle  clung  to  the 
cottage  walls  ;  the  ivy  crept  round  the  trunks  of  the  trees  ; 
and  the  garden-flowers  perfumed  the  air  with  delicious  odors. 
Hard  by  was  a  little  church-yard  ;  not  crowded  with  tall 
unsightly  grave-stones,  but  full  of  humble  mounds,  covered 
with  fresh  turf  and  moss  :  beneath  which  the  old  people  of 
the  village  lay  at  rest.  Oliver  often  wandered  here  ;  and, 
thinking  of  the  wretched  grave  in  which  his  mother  lay, 
would  sometimes  sit  him  down  and  sob  unseen  ;  but  when 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  deep  sky  overhead,  he  would  cease 
to  think  of  her  as  lying  in  the  ground,  and  would  weep  for 
her,  sadly,  but  without  pain. 

It  was  a  happy  time.  The  days  were  peaceful  and  serene  ; 
the  nights  brought  with  them  neither  fear  nor  care  ;    no 


OLIVER  TWIST.  241 

languishing  in  a  wretched  prison,  or  associating  with 
wretched  men  ;  nothing  but  pleasant  and  happy  thoughts. 
Every  morning  he  went  to  a  white-headed  old  gentleman, 
who  lived  near  the  little  church,  who  taught  him  to  read 
better,  and  to  write  ;  and  who  spoke  so  kindly,  and  took 
such  pains,  that  Oliver  could  never  try  enough  to  please 
him.  Then  he  would  walk  with  Mrs.  Maylie  and  Rose,  and 
hear  them  talk  of  books  ;  or  perhaps  sit  near  them  in  some 
shady  place,  and  listen  while  the  young  lady  read,  which  he 
could  have  done  until  it  grew  too  dark  to  see  the  letters. 
Then  he  had  his  own  lesson  for  the  next  day  to  prepare  ; 
and  at  this  he  would  work  hard,  in  a  little  room  which 
looked  into  the  garden,  till  evening  came  slowly  on,  when 
the  ladies  would  walkout  again,  and  he  with  them  ;  listening 
with  such  pleasure  to  all  they  said  ;  and  so  happy,  if  they 
wanted  a  flower,  that  he  could  climb  to  reach,  or  had  for- 
gotten any  thing  he  could  run  to  fetch  ;  that  he  could  never 
be  quick  enough  about  it.  When  it  became  quite  dark,  and 
they  returned  home,  the  young  lady  would  sit  down  to  the 
piano,  and  play  some  pleasant  air,  or  sing,  in  a  low  and  gen- 
tle voice,  some  old  song  which  it  pleased  her  aunt  to  hear. 
There  would  be  no  candles  lighted  at  such  times  as  these  ; 
and  Oliver  would  sit  by  one  of  the  windows,  listening  to  the 
sweet  music  in  a  perfect  rapture. 

And  when  Sunday  came,  how  differently  the  day  was 
spent,  from  any  way  in  which  he  had  ever  spent  it  yet !  and 
how  happily  too  ;  like  all  the  other  days  in  that  most  happy 
time  !  There  was  the  little  church  in  the  morning,  with  the 
green  leaves  fluttering  at  the  windows  ;  the  birds  singing 
without  ;  and  the  sweet-smelling  air  stealing  in  at  the  low 
porch,  and  filling  the  homely  building  with  its  fragrance. 
The  poor  people  were  so  neat  and  clean,  and  kneeled  so  rev- 
erently in  prayer,  that  it  seemed  a  pleasure,  not  a  tedious 
duty,  their  assembling  there  together ;  and  though  the 
singing  might  be  rude,  it  was  real,  and  sounded  more  musi- 
cal (to  Oliver's  ears  at  least)  than  any  he  had  ever  heard  in 
church  before.  Then  there  were  the  walks  as  usual,  and 
many  calls  at  the  clean  houses  of  the  laboring  men  ;  and  at 
night  Oliver  read  a  chapter  or  two  from  the  Bible,  which  he 
had  been  studying  all  the  week,  and  in  the  performance  of 
which  duty  he  felt  more  proud  and  pleased  than  if  he  had 
been  the  clergyman  himself. 

In   the    morning  Oliver  would  be  afoot  by  six  o'clock, 


242  OLIVER  TWIST. 

roaming  the  fields,  and  plundering  the  hedges  far  and  wide 
for  nosegays  of  wild  flowers,  with  which  he  would  return 
laden  home  ;  and  which  it  took  great  care  and  consideration 
to  arrange,  to  the  best  advantage,  for  the  embellishment  of 
the  breakfast-table.  There  was  fresh  groundsel,  too,  for 
Miss  Maylie's  birds,  with  which  Oliver,  who  had  been  study- 
ing the  subject  under  the  able  tuition  of  the  village  clerk, 
would  decorate  the  cages  in  the  most  approved  taste.  When 
the  birds  were  made  all  spruce  and  smart  for  the  day,  there 
was  usually  some  little  commission  of  charity  to  execute  in 
the  village  ;  or,  failing  that,  there  was  rare  cricket-playing, 
sometimes,  on  the  green  ;  or,  failing  that,  there  was  always 
something  to  do  in  the  garden,  or  about  the  plants,  to  which 
Oliver  (who  had  studied  this  science  also,  under  the  same 
master,  who  was  a  gardener  by  trade),  applied  himself  with 
hearty  good-will,  until  Miss  Rose  made  her  appearance  : 
when  there  were  a  thousand  commendations  to  be  bestowed 
on  all  he  had  done. 

So  three  months  glided  away  ;  three  months  which,  in  the 
life  of  the  most  blessed  and  favored  of  mortals,  might  have 
been  unmingled  happiness,  and  which,  in  Oliver's,  were  true 
felicity.  With  the  purest  and  most  amiable  generosity  on 
one  side  ;  and  the  truest,  warmest,  soul-felt  gratitude  on  the 
other  ;  it  is  no  wonder  that,  by  the  end  of  that  short  time, 
Oliver  Twist  had  become  completely  domesticated  with  the 
old  lady  and  her  niece,  and  that  the  fervent  attachment  of 
his  young  and  sensitive  heart  was  repaid  by  their  pride  in, 
and  attachment  to,  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WHEREIN    THE     HAPPINESS     OF     OLIVER     AND     HIS     FRIENDS 
EXPERIENCES  A  SUDDEN    CHECK. 

Spring  flew  swiftly  by,  and  summer  came.  If  the  village 
had  been  beautiful  at  first,  it  was  now  in  the  full  glow  and 
luxuriance  of  its  richness.  The  great  trees,  which  had  looked 
shrunken  and  bare  in  the  earlier  months,  had  now  burst  into 
strong  life  and  health  ;  and  stretching  forth  their  green 
arms  over  the  thirsty  ground,  converted  open  and  naked 
spots  into  choice  nooks,   where  was  a  deep  and  pleasant 


OLIVER  TWIST.  *43 

shade  from  which  to  look  upon  the  wide  prospect,  steeped 
in  sunshine,  which  lay  stretched  beyond.  The  earth  had 
donned  her  mantle  of  brightest  green,  and  shed  her  richest 
perfumes  abroad.  It  was  the  prime  and  vigor  of  the  year  ; 
all  things  were  glad  and  flourishing. 

Still,  the  same  quiet  life  went  on  at  the  little  cottage,  and 
the  same  cheerful  serenity  prevailed  among  its  inmates. 
Oliver  had  long  since  grown  stout  and  healthy  ;  but  health 
or  sickness  made  no  difference  in  his  warm  feelings  to  those 
about  him,  though  they  do  in  the  feelings  of  a  great  many 
people.  He  was  still  the  same  gentle,  attached,  affectionate 
creature  that  he  had  been  when  pain  and  suffering  had 
wasted  his  strength,  and  when  he  was  dependent  for  every 
slight  attention  and  comfort  on  those  who  tended  him. 

One  beautiful  night  they  had  taken  a  longer  walk  than 
was  customary  with  them  ;  for  the  day  had  been  unusually 
warm,  and  there  was  a  brilliant  moon,  and  a  light  wind  had 
sprung  up,  which  was  unusually  refreshing.  Rose  had 
been  in  high  spirits,  too,  and  they  had  walked  on,  in  merry 
conversation,  until  they  had  far  exceeded  their  ordinary 
bounds.  Mrs.  Maylie  being  fatigued,  they  returned  more 
slowly  home.  The  young  lady,  merely  throwing  off  her 
simple  bonnet,  sat  down  to  the  piano  as  usual.  After  run- 
ning abstractedly  over  the  keys  for  a  few  minutes,  she  fell 
into  a  low  and  very  solemn  air  ;  and  as  she  played  it,  they 
heard  a  sound  as  if  she  were  weeping. 

"  Rose,  my  dear  !  "  said  the  elder  lady. 

Rose  made  no  reply,  but  played  a  little  quicker,  as  though 
the  words  had  roused  her  from  some  painful  thoughts. 

"  Rose,  my  love  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Maylie,  rising  hastily,  and 
bending  over  her.  "  What  is  this  ?  In  tears  !  My  dear 
child,  what  distresses  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  aunt  ;  nothing,"  replied  the  young  lady.  "  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  ;  I  can't  describe  it  ;  but  I  feel — " 

"  Not  ill,  my  love  ?  "  interposed  Mrs.  Maylie. 

"  No,  no  !  Oh,  not  ill !  "  replied  Rose,  shuddering  as 
though  some  deadly  chillness  were  passing  over  her  while 
she  spoke  ;  "  I  shall  be  better  presently.  Close  the  window, 
pray  !  " 

Oliver  hastened  to  comply  with  her  request.  The  young 
lady,  making  an  effort  to  recover  her  cheerfulness,  strove  to 
play  some  livelier  tune  ;  but  her  fingers  dropped  powerless 
on  the  keys.     Covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  sank 


244     '  OLIVER  TWIST. 

upon  a  sofa,  and  gave  vent  to  the  tears  which  she  was  now 
unable  to  repress. 

"  My  child  !  "  said  the  elderly  lady,  folding  her  arms 
about  her,  "  I  never  saw  you  so  before." 

"  I  would  not  alarm  you  if  I  could  avoid  it,"  rejoined 
Rose  ;  "  but  indeed  I  have  tried  very  hard,  and  can  not  help 
this.     I  fear  I  am  ill,  aunt." 

She  was,  indeed  ;  for,  when  candles  were  brought,  they 
saw  that  in  the  very  short  time  which  had  elapsed  since 
their  return  home,  the  hue  of  her  countenance  had  changed 
to  a  marble  whiteness.  Its  expression  had  lost  nothing  of 
its  beauty,  but  it  was  changed  ;  and  there  was  an  anxious, 
haggard  look  about  the  gentle  face,  which  it  had  never  worn 
before.  Another  minute,  and  it  was  suffused  with  a  crimson 
flush,  and  a  heavy  wildness  came  over  the  soft  blue  eye. 
Again  this  disappeared,  like  the  shadow  thrown  by  a  pass- 
ing cloud  ;  and  she  was  once  more  deadly  pale. 

Oliver,  who  watched  the  old  lady  anxiously,  observed 
that  she  was  alarmed  by  these  appearances  ;  and  so,  in 
truth,  was  he  ;  but  seeing  that  she  affected  to  make  light  of 
them,  he  endeavored  to  do  the  same,  and  they  so  far  suc- 
ceeded that,  when  Rose  was  persuaded  by  her  aunt  to  re- 
tire for  the  night,  she  was  in  better  spirits,  and  appeared 
even  in  better  health  ;  assuring  them  that  she  felt  certain 
she  should  rise  in  the  morning  quite  well. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Oliver,  when  Mrs.  Maylie  returned,  "  that 
nothing  is  the  matter  ?    She  don't  look  well  to-night,  but — " 

The  old  lady  motioned  to  him  not  to  speak  ;  and  sitting 
herself  down  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  room,  remained  silent 
for  some  time.     At  length  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice  : 

j  I  hope  not,  Oliver.  I  have  been  very  happy  with  her 
for  some  years — too  happy,  perhaps.  It  may  be  time  that  I 
should  meet  with  some  misfortune  ;  but  I  hope  it  is  not 
this." 

"  What  ?  "  inquired  Oliver. 

"  The  heavy  blow,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  of  losing  the  dear 
girl  who  has  so  long  been  my  comfort  and  happiness." 

"  Oh  !  God  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  Oliver,  hastily. 

"  Amen  to  that,  my  child  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  wringing 
her  hands. 

"  Surely  there  is  no  danger  of  any  thing  so  dreadful  ?  " 
said  Oliver.     "  Two  hours  ago  she  was  quite  well." 

"  She  is  very  ill  now,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Maylie  ;  "  and  will  be 


OLIVER  TWIST.  245 

worse,  I  am  sure.  My  dear,  dear  Rose  !  Oh,  what  should 
I  do  without  her  ? " 

She  gave  way  to  such  great  grief,  that  Oliver,  suppressing 
his  own  emotion,  ventured  to  remonstrate  with  her,  and  to 
beg  earnestly  that,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  young  lady  her- 
self, she  would  be  more  calm. 

"  And  consider,  ma'am,"  said  Oliver,  as  the  tears  forced 
themselves  into  his  eyes,  despite  of  his  efforts  to  the  con- 
trary— "  oh  !  consider  how  young  and  good  she  is,  and  what 
pleasure  and  comfort  she  gives  to  all  about  her.  I  am  sure 
— certain — quite  certain— that,  for  your  sake,  who  are  so 
good  yourself  ;  and  for  her  own  ;  and  for  the  sake  of  all  she 
makes  so  happy  ;  she  will  not  die.  Heaven  will  never,  let 
her  die  so  young." 

"  Hush  !"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  laying  her  hand  on  Oliver's 
head.  You  think  like  a  child,  poor  boy.  But  you  teach 
me  my  duty,  notwithstanding.  I  had  forgotten  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, Oliver,  but  I  hope  I  may  be  pardoned,  for  I  am  old, 
and  have  seen  enough  of  illness  and  death  to  know  the 
agony  of  separation  from  the  objects  of  our  love.  I  have 
seen  enough  too,  to  know  that  it  is  not  always  the  youngest 
and  best  who  are  spared  to  those  that  love  them  ;  but  this 
should  give  us  comfort  in  our  sorrow  ;  for  Heaven  is  just  ; 
and  such  things  teach  us,  impressively,  that  there  is  a  bright- 
er world  than  this  ;  and  that  the  passage  to  it  is  speedy. 
God's  will  be  done  !  I  love  her  ;  and  He  knows  how 
well  !  " 

Oliver  was  surprised  to  see  that  as  Mrs.  Maylie  said  these 
words,  she  checked  her  lamentations  as  though  by  one 
effort ;  and  drawing  herself  up  as  she  spoke,  became  com- 
posed and  firm.  He  was  still  more  astonished  to  find  that 
this  firmness  lasted  ;  and  that,  under  all  the  care  and  watch- 
ing which  ensued,  Mrs.  Maylie  was  ever  ready  and  collect- 
ed :  performing  all  the  duties  which  devolved  upon  her, 
steadily,  and,  to  all  external  appearances,  even  cheerfully. 
But  he  was  young,  and  did  not  know  what  strong  minds 
are  capable  of,  under  trying  circumstances.  How  should  he, 
when  their  possessors  so  seldom  knew  themselves. 

An  anxious  night  ensued.  When  morning  came,  Mrs. 
Maylie's  predictions  were  but  too  well  verified.  Rose  was 
in  the  first  stage  of  a  high  and  dangerous  fever. 

"  We  must  be  active,  Oliver,  and  not  give  way  to  useless 
grief,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  laying  her  finger  on  her  lip,  as  sh$ 


246  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Jooked  steadily  into  his  face  ;  "  this  letter  must  be  sent,  with 
all  possible  expedition,  to  Mr.  Losberne.  It  must  be  carried 
to  the  market-town,  which  is  not  more  than  four  miles  off  by 
the  foot-path  across  the  fields,  and  thence  dispatched,  by 
an  express  on  horseback,  straight  to  Chertsey.  The  people 
at  the  inn  will  undertake  to  do  this  ;  and  I  can  trust  to  you 
to  see  it  done,  I  know." 

Oliver  could  make  no  reply,  but  looked  his  anxiety  to  be 
gone  at  once. 

"  Here  is  another  letter,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  pausing  to  re- 
flect ;  "  but  whether  to  send  it  now,  or  wait  until  I  see  how 
Rose  goes  on,  I  scarcely  know.  I  would  not  forward  it  un- 
less i  feared  the  worst." 

"  Is  it  for  Chertsey,  too,  ma'am  ?"  inquired  Oliver,  im- 
patient to  execute  his  commission,  and  holding  out  his 
trembling  hand  for  the  letter. 

"  No,"  replied  the  old  lady,  giving  it  to  him  mechanically. 
Oliver  glanced  at  it,  and  saw  that  it  was  directed  to  Harry 
Maylie,  Esquire,  at  some  great  Lord's  house  in  the  country; 
where,  he  could  not  make  out. 

"  Shall  it  go,  ma'am  ? "  asked  Oliver,  looking  up,  im- 
patiently. 

6<  I  think  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Maylie,  taking  it  back.  "  I 
will  wait  until  to-morrow." 

With  these  words  she  gave  Oliver  her  purse,  and  he  start- 
ed off,  without  more  delay,  at  the  greatest  speed  he  could 
muster. 

Swiftly  he  ran  across  the  fields,  and  down  the  little  lanes 
which  sometimes  divided  them  ;  now  almost  hidden  by  the 
high  corn  on  either  side,  and  now  emerging  on  an  open  field 
where  the  mowers  and  hay-makers  were  busy  at  their  work  ; 
nor  did  he  stop  once,  save  now  and  then,  for  a  few  seconds, 
to  recover  breath,  until  he  came,  in  a  great  heat,  and  cover- 
ed with  dust,  on  the  little  market-place  of  the  market- 
town. 

Here  he  paused  and  looked  about  him  for  the  inn.  There 
were  a  white  bank  and  a  red  brewery,  and  a  yellow  town- 
hall  ;  and  in  one  corner  there  was  a  large  house,  with  all 
the  wood  about  it  painted  green,  before  which  was  the  sign 
of  "  The  George."  To  this  he  hastened,  as  soon  as  it 
caught  his  eye. 

He  spoke  to  a  postboy  who  was  dozing  under  the  gate- 
way ;  and  who,  after  hearing  what  he  wanted,  referred  him 


OLIVER  TWIST.  247 

to  the  hostler  ;  who,  after  hearing  all  he  had  to  say  again, 
referred  him  to  the  landlord,  who  was  a  tall  gentleman  in  a 
blue  neckcloth,  a  white  hat,  drab  breeches,  and  boots  with 
tops  to  match,  leaning  against  a  pump  by  the  stable-door, 
picking  his  teeth  with  a  silver  tooth-pick. 

This  gentleman  walked  with  much  deliberation  into  the 
bar  to  make  out  the  bill,  which  took  a  long  time  making  out; 
and  after  it  was  ready  and  paid,  a  horse  had  to  be  saddled, 
and  a  man  to  be  dressed,  which  took  up  ten  good  minutes 
more.  Meanwhile  Oliver  was  in  such  a  desperate  state  of 
impatience  and  anxiety,  that  he  felt  as  if  he  could  have 
jumped  upon  the  horse  himself,  and  galloped  away,  full 
tear,  to  the  next  stage.  At  length  all  was  ready,  and  the 
little  parcel  having  been  handed  up,  with  many  injunctions 
and  entreaties  for  its  speedy  delivery,  the  man  set  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and  rattling  over  the  uneven  paving  of  the  mar- 
ket-place, was  out  of  the  town,  and  galloping  along  the  turn- 
pike road,  in  a  couple  of  minutes. 

As  it  was  something  to  feel  certain  that  assistance  was 
sent  for,  and  that  no  time  had  been  lost,  Oliver  hurried  up 
the  inn-yard  with  a  somewhat  lighter  heart.  He  was  turn- 
ing out  of  the  gate-way  when  he  accidentally  stumbled 
against  a  tall  man  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  who  was  at  that  mo- 
ment coming  out  of  the  inn  door. 

"  Hah  ! "  cried  the  man,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Oliver,  and 
suddenly  recoiling.     "  What  the  devil's  this  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Oliver  ;  "  I  was  in  a  great 
hurry  to  get  home,  and  didn't  see  you  were  coming." 

"  Death  !  "  muttered  the  man  to  himself,  glaring  at  the 
boy  with  his  large  dark  eyes.  "  Who  would  have  thought 
it  !  Grind  him  to  ashes  !  He'd  start  up  from  a  stone 
coffin,  to  come  in  my  way  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  stammered  Oliver,  confused  by  the  strange 
man's  wild  look.     "  I  hope  I  have  not  hurt  you  !  " 

"  Rot  you  !  "  murmured  the  man,  in  a  horrible  passion, 
between  his  clenched  teeth  ;  "  if  I  had  only  had  the  cour- 
age to  say  the  word,  I  might  have  been  free  of  you  in  a 
night.  Curses  on  your  head,  and  black  death  on  your  heart, 
you  imp  !     What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

The  man  shook  his  fist  as  he  uttered  these  words  incoher- 
ently. He  advanced  toward  Oliver,  as  if  with  the  intention 
of  aiming  a  blow  at  him,  but  fell  violently  on  the  ground, 
writhing  and  foaming,  in  a  fit. 


248  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Oliver  gazed,  for  a  moment,  at  the  struggles  of  the  mad* 
man  (for  such  he  supposed  him  to  be),  and  then  darted  in- 
to the  house  for  help.  Having  seen  him  safely  carried  into 
the  hotel,  he  turned  his  face  homeward,  running  as  fast  as 
he  could,  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  recalling  with  a  great 
deal  of  astonishment  and  some  fear  the  extraordinary  be- 
havior of  the  person  from  whom  he  had  just  parted. 

The  circumstance  did  not  dwell  in  his  recollection  long, 
however  ;  for  when  he  reached  the  cottage,  there  was 
enough  to  occupy  his  mind,  and  to  drive  all  considerations 
of  self  completely  from  his  memory. 

Rose  Maylie  had  rapidly  grown  worse  ;  before  midnight 
she  was  delirious.  A  medical  practitioner,  who  resided  on 
the  spot,  was  in  constant  attendance  upon  her  ;  and  after 
first  seeing  the  patient,  he  had  taken  Mrs.  Maylie  aside, 
and  prounounced  her  disorder  to  be  one  of  a  most  alarm- 
ing nature.  "  In  fact,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be  little  short  of 
a  miracle  if  she  recovered." 

How  often  did  Oliver  start  from  his  bed  that  night,  and 
stealing  out,  with  noiseless  footstep,  to  the  staircase,  listen 
for  the  slightest  sound  from  the  sick-chamber  !  How  often 
did  a  tremble  shake  his  frame,  and  cold  drops  of  terror 
start  upon  his  brow,  when  a  sudden  trampling  of  feet  caused 
him  to  fear  that  something  too  dreadful  to  think  of  had 
even  then  occurred  !  And  what  had  been  the  fervency  of 
all  the  prayers  he  had  ever  uttered,  compared  with  those 
he  poured  forth  now,  in  the  agony  and  passion  of  his  sup- 
plication for  the  life  and  health  of  the  gentle  creature  who 
was  tottering  on  the  deep  grave's  verge  ! 

Oh  !  the  suspense,  the  fearful,  acute  suspense,  of  standing 
idly  by  while  the  life  of  one  we  dearly  love  is  trembling  in 
the  balance  !  Oh  !  the  racking  thoughts  that  crowd  upon 
the  mind,  and  make  the  heart  beat  violently,  and  the  breath 
come  thick,  by  the  force  of  the  images  they  conjure  up  be- 
fore it  ;  the  desperate  anxiety  to  be  doing  something  to  relieve 
the  pain,  or  lessen  the  danger,  which  we  have  no  power  to 
alleviate  ;  the  sinking  of  soul  and  spirit,  which  the  sad  re- 
membrance of  our  helplessness  produces  ;  what  tortures 
can  equal  these  ;  what  reflections  or  endeavors  can,  in  the 
full  tide  and  fever  of  the  time,  allay  them  ! 

Morning  came  ;  and  the  little  cottage  was  lonely  and  still. 
People  spoke  in  whispers  ;  anxious  faces  appeared  at  the 
gate,  from  time  to  time  ;  women  and  children  went  away  in 


OLIVER  TWIST.  249 

tears.  All  the  livelong  day,  and  for  hours  after  it  had  grown 
dark,  Oliver  paced  softly  up  and  down  the  garden,  raising 
his  eyes  every  instant  to  the  sick-chamber,  and  shuddering 
to  see  the  darkened  window,  looking  as  if  death  lay  stretched 
inside.  Late  at  night  Mr.  Losberne  arrived.  "  It  is  hard," 
said  the  good  doctor,  turning  away  as  he  spoke  ;  "  so  young  ; 
so  much  beloved  ;  but  there  is  very  little  hope." 

Another  morning.  The  sun  shone  brightly — as  brightly 
as  if  it  looked  upon  no  misery  or  care  ;  and,  with  every  leaf 
and  flower  in  full  bloom  about  her  ;  with  life  and  health, 
and  sounds  and  sights  of  joy,  surrounding  her  on  every  side, 
the  fair  young  creature  lay,  wasting  fast.  Oliver  crept  away 
to  the  old  church-yard,  and  sitting  down  on  one  of  the  green 
mounds,  wept  and  prayed  for  her  in  silence. 

There  was  such  peace  and  beauty  in  the  scene  ;  so  much 
of  brightness  and  mirth  in  the  sunny  landscape  ;  such  blithe- 
some music  in  the  songs  of  the  summer  birds  ;  such  free- 
dom in  the  rapid  flight  of  the  rook,  careering  overhead  ;  so 
much  of  life  and  joyousness  in  all  ;  that,  when  the  boy  raised 
his  aching  eyes  and  looked  about,  the  thought  instinctively 
occurred  to  him,  that  this  was  not  a  time  for  death  ;  that 
Rose  could  surely  never  die  when  humbler  things  were  all 
so  glad  and  gay  ;  that  graves  were  for  cold  and  cheerless 
winter  ;  not  for  sunlight  and  fragrance.  He  almost  thought 
that  shrouds  were  for  the  old  and  shrunken  ;  and  that  they 
never  wrapped  the  young  and  graceful  form  in  their  ghastly 
folds. 

-A  knell  from  the  church-bell  broke  harshly  on  these  youth- 
ful thoughts.  Another  !  Again  !  It  was  tolling  for  the  fu- 
neral service.  A  group  of  humble  mourners  entered  the 
gate,  wearing  white  favors,  for  the  corpse  was  young.  They 
stood  uncovered  by  a  grave  ;  and  there  was  a  mother — a 
mother  once — among  the  weeping  train.  But  the  sun  shone 
brightly,  and  the  birds  sang  on. 

Oliver  turned  homeward,  thinking  on  the  many  kindnesses 
he  had  received  from  the  young  lady,  and  wishing  that  the 
time  could  come  over  again,  that  he  might  never  cease  show- 
ing her  how  grateful  and  attached  he  was.  He  had  no  cause 
for  self-reproach  on  the  score  of  neglect  or  want  of  thought, 
for  he  had  been  devoted  to  her  service  ;  and  yet  a  hundred 
little  occasions  rose  up  before  him  on  which  he  fancied  he 
might  have  been  more  zealous  and  more  earnest,  and  wished 
he  had  been.     We  need  be  careful  how  we  deal  with  those 


250  OLIVER  TWIST. 

about  us,  when  every  death  carries  to  some  small  circle  of 
survivors  thoughts  of  so  much  omitted,  and  so  little  done — 
of  so  many  things  forgotten,  and  so  many  more  which  might 
have  been  repaired  !  There  is  no  remorse  so  deep  as  that 
which  is  unavailing  ;  if  we  would  be  spared  its  tortures,  let 
us  remember  this  in  time. 

When  he  reached  home  Mrs.  Maylie  was  sitting  in  the  lit- 
tle parlor.  Oliver's  heart  sank  at  sight  of  her  ;  for  she  had 
never  left  the  bedside  of  her  niece,  and  he  trembled  to  think 
what  change  could  have  driven  her  away.  He  learned  that 
she  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  she  would 
waken,  either  to  recovery  and  life,  or  to  bid  them  farewell 
and  die. 

They  sat,  listening,  and  afraid  to  speak  for  hours.  The 
untasted  meal  was  removed,  with  looks  which  showed  that 
their  thoughts  were  elsewhere  ;  they  watched  the  sun  as  he 
sank  lower  and  lower,  and  at  length  cast  over  sky  and  earth 
those  brilliant  hues  which  herald  his  departure.  Their 
quick  ears  caught  the  sound  of  an  approaching  footstep. 
They  both  involuntarily  darted  to  the  door,  as  Mr.  Los- 
berne  entered. 

"  What  of  Rose  ?  "  cried  the  old  lady.  "  Tell  me  at  once  ! 
I  can  bear  it ;  any  thing  but  suspense  !  Oh,  tell  me  !  in  the 
name  of  Heaven  !  " 

"  You  must  compose  yourself,"  said  the  doctor,  supporting 
her.     "Be  calm,  my  dear  ma'am,  pray." 

"  Let  me  go,  in  God's  name  !  My  dear  child  !  She  is  dead  ! 
She  is  dying  !  " 

"  No  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  passionately.  u  As  He  is  good 
and  merciful,  she  will  live  to  bless  us  all  for  years  to 
come." 

The  lady  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  tried  to  fold  her  hands 
together  ;  but  the  energy  which  had  supported  her  so  long, 
fled  up  to  Heaven  with  her  first  thanksgiving  ;  and  she  sank 
into  the  friendly  arms  which  were  extended  to  receive 
her. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  251 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

CONTAINS  SOME  INTRODUCTORY  PARTICULARS  RELATIVE 
TO  A  YOUNG  GENTLEMAN  WHO  NOW  ARRIVES  UPON  THE 
SCENE,  AND  A  NEW  ADVENTURE  WHICH  HAPPENED  TO 
OLIVER. 

It  was  almost  too  much  happiness  to  bear.  Oliver  felt 
stunned  and  stupefied  by  the  unexpected  intelligence  ;  he 
could  not  weep,  or  speak,  or  rest.  He  had  scarcely  the 
power  of  understanding  any  thing  that  had  passed,  until, 
after  a  long  ramble  in  the  quiet  evening  air,  a  burst  of  tears 
tame  to  his  relief,  and  he  seemed  to  awaken,  all  at  once,  to 
a  full  sense  of  the  joyful  change  that  had  occurred,  and  the 
almost  insupportable  load  of  anguish  which  had  been  taken 
from  his  breast. 

The  night  was  fast  closing  in  when  he  returned  homeward, 
laden  with  flowers  which  he  had  cuiled,  with  peculiar  care, 
for  the  adornment  of  the  sick  chamber.  As  he  walked 
briskly  along  the  road,  he  heard  behind  him  the  noise  of  some 
vehicle,  approaching  at  a  furious  pace.  Looking  round,  he 
saw  that  it  was  a  post-chaise,  driven  at  great  speed  ;  and  as 
the  horses  were  galloping,  and  the  road  was  narrow,  he  stood 
leaning  against  a  gate  until  it  should  have  passed  him. 

As  it  dashed  on,  Oliver  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  man  in  a 
white  night-cap,  whose  face  seemed  familiar  to  him,  although 
his  view  was  so  brief  that  he  could  not  identify  the  person. 
In  another  second  or  two,  the  night-cap  was  thrust  out  of 
the  chaise-window,  and  a  stentorian  voice  bellowed  to  the 
driver  to  stop  ;  which  he  did,  as  soon  as  he  could  pull  up  his 
horses.  Then  the  night-cap  once  again  appeared,  and  the 
same  voice  called  Oliver  by  his  name. 

"  Here  !  "  cried  the  voice.  "  Oliver,  what's  the  news  ? 
Miss  Rose  !  Master  O-li-ver  !  " 

"  Is  it  you,  Giles  ?  "  cried  Oliver,  running  up  to  the  chaise- 
door. 

Giles  popped  out  his  night-cap  again,  preparatory  to  mak- 
ing some  reply,  when  he  was  suddenly  pulled  back  by  a 
young  gentleman  who  occupied  the  other  corner  of  the  chaise, 
and  who  eagerly  demanded  what  was  the  news. 

"  In  a  word  !  "   cried  the  gentleman,    "  better  or  worse  ?  " 

"  Better — much  better  !  "  replied  Oliver,  hastily. 


252  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed  the  gentleman.  "  You  are 
sure  ? " 

"  Quite,  sir,"  replied  Oliver.  "The  change  took  place 
only  a  few  hours  ago  ;  and  Mr.  Losberne  says  that  all  dan- 
ger is  at  an  end." 

The  gentleman  said  not  another  word,  but,  opening  the 
chaise-door,  leaped  out,  and  taking  Oliver  hurriedly  by  the 
arm,  led  him  aside. 

"  You  are  quite  certain  ?  There  is  no  possibility  of  any 
mistake  on  your  part,  my  boy,  is  there  ?  "  demanded  the 
gentleman,  in  a  tremulous  voice.  "  Do  not  deceive  me,  by 
awakening  hopes  that  are  not  to  be  fulfilled." 

"I  would  not  for  the  world,  sir,"  replied  Oliver.  " Indeed 
you  may  believe  me.  Mr.  Losberne's  words  were,  that  she 
would  live  to  bless  us  all  for  many  years  to  come.  I  heard 
him  say  so." 

The  tears  stood  in  Oliver's  eyes  as  he  recalled  the  scene 
which  was  the  beginning  of  so  much  happiness  ;  and  the  gen- 
tleman turned  his  face  away,  and  remained  silent  for  some 
minutes.  Oliver  thought  he  heard  him  sob  more  than  once  ; 
but  he  feared  to  interrupt  him  by  any  fresh  remark — for  he 
could  well  guess  what  his  feelings  were — and  so  stood  apart, 
feigning  to  be  occupied  with  his  nosegay. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Giles,  with  the  white  ?ight-cap  on,  had 
been  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  chaise,  supporting  an  elbow 
on  each  knee,  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  a  blue  cotton  pocket- 
handkerchief  dotted  with  white  spots.  That  the  honest  fel- 
low had  not  been  feigning  emotion,  was  abundantly  demon- 
strated by  the  very  red  eyes  with  which  he  regarded  the 
young  gentleman  when  he  turned  round  and  addressed  him. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  on  to  my  mother's  in  the 
chaise,  Giles,"  said  he.  "  I  would  rather  walk  slowly  on,  so 
as  to  gain  a  little  time  before  I  see  her.  You  can  say  I  am 
coming." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Harry,"  said  Giles,  giving  a  final 
polish   to  his  ruffled  countenance  with   the  handkerchief  ; 

but  if  you  would  leave  the  postboy  to  say  that,  I  should 
be  very  much  obliged  to  you.  It  wouldn't  be  proper  for  the 
maids  to  see  me  in  this  state,  sir  ;  I  should  never  have  any 
more  authority  with  them  if  they  did." 

"  Well,"  rejoined  Harry  May  lie,  smiling,  "  you  can  do  as 
you  like.  Let  him  go  on  with  the  luggage,  if  you  wish  it, 
and  do  you  follow  with  us.     Only  first  exchange  that  night- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  253 

cap  for  some  more  appropriate  covering,  or  we  shall  be  taken 
for  madmen." 

Mr.  Giles,  reminded  of  his  unbecoming  costume,  snatched 
off  and  pocketed  his  night-cap,  and  substituted  a  hat,  of 
grave  and  sober  shape,  which  he  took  out  of  the  chaise.  This 
done,  the  postboy  drove  off  ;  Giles,  Mr.  Maylie,  and  Oliver 
followed  at  their  leisure. 

As  they  walked  along,  Oliver  glanced  from  time  to  time 
with  much  interest  and  curiosity  at  the  new-comer.  He 
seemed  about  five-and-twenty  years  of  age,  and  was  of  the 
middle  height  ;  his  countenance  was  frank  and  handsome, 
and  his  demeanor  easy  and  prepossessing.  Notwithstanding 
the  difference  between  youth  and  age,  he  bore  so  strong  a 
likeness  to  the  old  lady,  that  Oliver  would  have  had  no 
great  difficulty  in  imagining  their  relationship,  if  he  had  not 
already  spoken  of  her  as  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Maylie  was  anxiously  waiting  to  receive  her  son 
when  he  reached  the  cottage.  The  meeting  did  not  take 
place  without  great  emotion  on  both  sides. 

"  Mother  !  "  whispered  the  young  man  ;  "  why  did  you 
not  write  before  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Maylie  ;  "  but,  on  reflection,  I  de- 
termined to  keep  back  the  letter  until  I  had  heard  Mr.  Los- 
berne's  opinion." 

"  But  why,"  said  the  young  man,  "  why  run  the  chance  of 
that  occurring  which  so  nearly  happened  ?  If  Rose  had — I 
can  not  utter  that  word  now — if  this  illness  had  terminated 
differently,  how  could  you  ever  have  forgiven  yourself  !  How 
could  I  ever  have  known  happiness  again  !  " 

"  If  that  had  been  the  case,  Harry,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie, 
"  I  fear  your  happiness  would  have  been  effectually  blighted, 
and  that  your  arrival  here,  a  day  sooner  or  a  day  later, 
would  have  been  of  very,  very  little  import." 

"  And  who  can  wonder  if  it  be  so,  mother  ?  "  rejoined  the 
young  man;  "or  why  should  I  say//*.? — it  is — it  is — you 
know  it,  mother — you  must  know  it  !  " 

"  I  know  that  she  deserves  the  best  and  purest  love  the 
heart  of  man  can  offer,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie  ;  "  I  know  that  the 
devotion  and  affection  of  her  nature  require  no  ordinary  re- 
turn, but  one  that  shall  be  deep  and  lasting.  If  I  did  not 
feel  this,  and  know,  besides,  that  a  changed  behavior  in  one 
she  loved  would  break  her  heart,  I  should  not  feel  my  task 
so  difficult  of  performance,  or  have  to  encounter  so  many 


2$4  OLIVER  TWIST. 

struggles  in  my  own  bosom,  when  I  take  what  seems  to  me 
to  be  the  strict  line  of  duty." 

"  This  is  unkind,  mother,"  said  Harry.  "  Do  you  still 
suppose  that  I  am  a  boy  ignorant  of  my  own  mind,  and  mis- 
taking the  impulses  of  my  own  soul  ?  " 

"  I  think,  my  dear  son,"  returned  Mrs.  Maylie,  laying  her 
hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "  that  youth  has  many  generous 
impulses  which  do  not  last ;  and  that  among  them  are  some 
which,  being  gratified,  become  only  the  more  fleeting. 
Above  all,  I  think,"  said  the  lady,  fixing  her  eyes  on  her  son's 
face,  "  that  if  an  enthusiastic,  ardent,  and  ambitious  man 
marry  a  wife  on  whose  name  there  is  a  stain,  which,  though 
it  originate  in  no  fault  of  hers,  may  be  visited  by  cold  and 
sordid  people  upon  her,  and  upon  his  children  also  ;  and,  in 
exact  proportion  to  his  success  in  the  world,  be  cast  in  his 
teeth,  and  made  the  subject  of  sneers  against  him  ;  he  may, 
no  matter  how  generous  and  good  his  nature,  one  day  repent 
of  the  connection  he  formed  in  early  life.  And  she  may 
have  the  pain  of  knowing  that  he  does  so." 

"  Mother,"  said  the  young  man,  impatiently,  "  he  would 
be  a  selfish  brute,  unworthy  alike  of  the  name  of  man  and 
of  the  woman  you  describe,  who  acted  thus." 

"You  think  so  now,  Harry,"  replied  his  mother. 

"  And  ever  will  !  "  said  the  young  man.  "  The  mental 
agony  I  have  suffered,  during  the  last  two  days,  wrings  from 
me  the  avowal  to  you  of  a  passion  which,  as  you  well  know, 
is  not  one  of  yesterday,  nor  one  I  have  lightly  formed.  On 
Rose,  sweet,  gentle  girl !  my  heart  is  set  as  firmly  as  ever  heart 
of  man  was  set  on  woman.  I  have  no  thought,  no  view,  no 
hope  in  life,  beyond  her  ;  and  if  you  oppose  me  in  this  great 
stake,  you  take  my  peace  and  happiness  in  your  hands  and 
cast  them  to  the  wind.  Mother,  think  better  of  this  and  of 
me,  and  do  not  disregard  the  happiness  of  which  you  seem  to 
think  so  little." 

"  Harry,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  "  it  is  because  I  think  so 
much  of  warm  and  sensitive  hearts,  that  I  would  spare  them 
from  being  wounded.  But  we  have  said  enough,  and  more 
than  enough,  on  this  matter,  just  now." 

"  Let  it  rest  with  Rose,  then,"  interposed  Harry.  "  You 
will  not  press  these  overstrained  opinions  of  yours  so  far  as 
to  throw  any  obstacle  in  my  way  ?  " 

14 1  will  not,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Maylie  *r  "  but  I  would  have 
you  consider — " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  255 

"  I  have  considered  !  "  was  the  impatient  reply  ;  "  mother, 
I  have  considered  years  and  years.  I  have  considered  ever 
since  I  have  been  capable  of  serious  reflection.  My  feelings 
remain  unchanged,  as  they  ever  will  ;  and  why  should  I  suf- 
fer the  pain  of  a  delay  in  giving  them  vent,  which  can  be 
productive  of  no  earthly  good  ?  No  !  Before  I  leave  this 
place,  Rose  shall  hear  me." 

11  She  shall,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie. 

"  There  is  something  in  your  manner  which  would  almost 
imply  that  she  will  hear  me  coldly,  mother,"  said  'the  young 
man. 

"  Not  coldly,"  rejoined  the  old  lady  ;  "  far  from  it." 

"  How  then  !  "  urged  the  young  man.  "  She  has  formed 
no  other  attachment  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  his  mother  ;  "  you  have,  or  I  mis- 
take, too  strong  a  hold  on  her  affections  already.  What  I 
would  say,"  resumed  the  old  lady,  stopping  her  son  as  he 
was  about  to  speak,  "  is  this.  Before  you  stake  your  all  on 
this  chance — before  you  suffer  yourself  to  be  carried  to  the 
highest  point  of  hope — reflect  for  a  few  moments,  my  dear 
child,  on  Rose's  history,  and  consider  what  effect  the  knowl- 
edge of  her  doubtful  birth  may  have  on  her  decision ;  de- 
voted as  she  is  to  us,  with  all  the  intensity  of  her  noble  mind, 
and  with  that  perfect  sacrifice  of  self  which,  in  all  matters, 
great  or  trifling,  has  always  been  her  characteristic." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  I  leave  you  to  discover,"  replied  Mrs.  Maylie.  "  I 
must  go  back  to  her.     God  bless  you  !  " 

"  I  shall  see  you  again  to-night  ? "  said  the  young  man, 
eagerly. 

"By-and-by,"  replied  the  lady  ;  "when  I  leave  Rose.17 

"  You  will  tell  her  I  am  here  ? "  said  Harry. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Maylie. 

"  And  say  how  anxious  I  have  been,  and  how  much  I  have 
suffered,  and  how  I  long  to  see  her.  You  will  not  refuse  to 
do  this,  mother  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  I  will  tell  her  all."  And  press- 
ing her  son's  hand  affectionately,  she  hastened  from  the 
room. 

Mr.  Losberne  and  Oliver  had  remained  at  another  end  of 
the  apartment  while  this  hurried  conversation  was  proceed- 
ing. The  former  now  held  out  his  hand  to  Harry  Maylie, 
and  hearty  salutations  were  exchanged  between  them.    The 


256  OLIVER  TWIST. 

doctor  then  communicated,  in  reply  to  multifarious  questions 
from  his  young  friend,  a  precise  account  of  his  patient's 
situation,  which  was  quite  as  consolatory  and  full  of  promise 
as  Oliver's  statement  had  encouraged  him  to  hope  ;  and  to 
the  whole  of  which  Mr.  Giles,  who  affected  to  be  busy  about 
the  luggage,  listened  with  greedy  ears. 

"  Have  you  shot  any  thing  particular  lately,  Giles  ?  "  in- 
quired the  doctor,  when  he  had  concluded. 

"  Nothing  particular,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Giles,  coloring  up 
to  the  eyes. 

"  Not  catching  any  thieves,  nor  identifying  any  house- 
breakers ?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  None  at  all,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Giles,  with  much  gravity. 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,  because 
you  do  that  sort  of  thing  admirably.     Pray  how  is  Brittles?  " 

"  The  boy  is  very  well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  recovering 
his  usual  tone  of  patronage,  "  and  sends  his  respectful  duty, 
sir." 

"  That's  well,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Seeing  you  here  re- 
minds me,  Mr.  Giles,  that  on  the  day  before  that  on  which 
I  was  called  away  so  hurriedly,  I  executed,  at  the  request  of 
your  good  mistress,  a  small  commission  in  your  favor.  Just 
step  into  the  corner  a  moment,  will  you  ?" 

Mr.  Giles  walked  into  the  corner  with  much  importance, 
and  some  wonder,  and  was  honored  with  a  short  whispering 
conference  with  the  doctor,  on  the  termination  of  which  he 
made  a  great  many  bows,  and  retired  with  steps  of  unusual 
stateliness.  The  subject-matter  of  this  conference  was  not 
disclosed  in  the  parlor,  but  the  kitchen  was  speedily  enlight- 
ened concerning  it,  for  Mr.  Giles  walked  straight  thither, 
and,  having  called  for  a  mug  of  ale,  announced,  with  an  air 
of  majesty,  which  was  highly  effective,  that  it  had  pleased 
his  mistress,  in  consideration  of  his  gallant  behavior  on  the 
occasion  of  that  attempted  robbery,  to  deposit,  in  the  local 
savings  bank,  the  sum  of  .five-and-twenty  pounds  for  his  sole 
use  and  benefit.  At  this  the  two  women-servants  lifted  up 
their  hands  and  eyes,  and  supposed  that  Mr.  Giles  would 
begin  to  be  quite  proud  now  ;  whereunto  Mr.  Giles,  pulling 
out  his  shirt-frill,  replied,  "No,  no,"  and  that  if  they  observ- 
ed that  he  was  at  all  haughty  to  his  inferiors,  he  would  thank 
them  to  tell  him  so.  And  then  he  made  a  great  many  other 
remarks,  no  less  illustrative  of  his  humility,  which  were  re- 
ceived with  equal  favor  and  applause,  and   were,   withal,  as 


OLIVER  TWIST.  257 

original  and  as  much  to  the  purpose  as  the  remarks  of  great 
men  commonly  are. 

Above  stairs  the  remainder  of  the  evening  passed  cheer- 
fully away  ;  for  the  doctor  was  in  high  spirits,  and  however 
fatigued  or  thoughtful  Harry  Maylie  might  have  been  at  first, 
lie  was  not  proof  against  the  worthy  gentleman's  good- 
humor,  which  displayed  itself  in  a  great  variety  of  sallies 
and  professional  recollections,  and  an  abundance  of  small 
jokes,  which  struck  Oliver  as  being  the  drollest  things  he 
had  ever  heard,  and  caused  him  to  laugh  proportionately,  to 
the  evident  satisfaction  of  the  doctor,  who  laughed  immod- 
erately at  himself,  and  made  Harry  laugh  almost  as  heartily 
by  the  very  force  of  sympathy.  So  they  were  as  pleasant  a 
party  as,  under  the  circumstances,  they  could  well  have 
been,  and  it  was  late  before  they  retired,,  with  light  and 
thankful  hearts,  to  take  that  rest  of  which,  after  the  doubt 
and  suspense  they  had  recently  undergone,  they  stood  much 
in  need. 

Oliver  rose  next  morning  in  better  heart,  and  went  about 
his  usual  early  occupations  with  more  hope  and  pleasure 
than  he  had  known  for  many  days.  The  birds  were  once 
more  hung  out  to  sing  in  their  old  places,  and  the  sweetest 
wild  flowers  that  could  be  found  were  once  more  gathered 
to  gladden  Rose  with  their  beauty.  The  melancholy  which 
had  seemed  to  the  sad  eyes  of  the  anxious  boy  to  hang,  for 
days  past,  over  every  object,  beautiful  as  all  were,  was  dis- 
pelled by  magic.  The  dew  seemed  to  sparkle  more  brightly 
on  the  green  leaves,  the  air  to  rustle  among  them  with  a 
sweeter  music,  and  the  sky  itself  to  look  more  blue  and 
bright.  Such  is  the  influence  which  the  condition  of  our 
own  thoughts  exercises,  even  over  the  appearance  of  exter- 
nal objects.  Men  who  look  on  nature  and  their  fellow-men, 
and  cry  that  all  is  dark  and  gloomy,  are  in  the  right  ;  but 
the  somber  colors  are  reflections  from  their  own  jaundiced 
eyes  and  hearts.  The  real  hues  are  delicate,  and  need  a 
clearer  vision. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  and  Oliver  did  not  fail  to  note  it 
at  the  time,  that  his  morning  expeditions  were  no  longer 
made  alone.  Harry  Maylie,  after  the  very  first  morning 
when  he  met  Oliver  coming  laden  home,  was  seized  with 
such  a  passion  for  flowers,  and  displayed  such  a  taste  in  their 
arrangement,  as  left  his  young  companion  far  behind.  If 
Oliver  were  behindhand  in  these  respects,  however,  he  knew 


258  OLIVER  TWIST. 

where  the  best  were  to  be  found  ;  and  morning  after  morn- 
ing they  scoured  the  country  together,  and  brought  home  the 
fairest  that  blossomed.  The  window  of  the  young  lady's 
chamber  was  opened  now,  for  she  loved  to  feel  the  rich 
summer  air  stream  in  and  revive  her  with  its  freshness,  but 
there  always  stood  in  water,  just  inside  the  lattice,  one  par- 
ticular little  bunch,  which  was  made  up  with  great  care 
every  morning.  Oliver  could  not  help  noticing  that  the 
withered  flowers  were  never  thrown  away,  although  the 
little  vase  was  regularly  replenished  ;  nor  could  he  help  ob- 
serving that,  whenever  the  doctor  came  into  the  garden,  he 
invariably  cast  his  eyes  up  to  that  particular  corner,  and 
nodded  his  head  most  expressively  as  he  set  forth  on  his 
morning's  walk.  Pending  these  observations,  the  days  were 
flying  by,  and  Rose  was  rapidly  recovering. 

Nor  did  Oliver's  time  hang  heavily  on  his  hands,  although 
the  young  lady  had  not  yet  left  her  chamber,  and  there  were 
no  evening  walks,  save  now  and  then  for  a  short  distance 
with  Mrs.  Maylie.  He  applied  himself  with  redoubled  assi- 
duity to  the  instructions  of  the  white-headed  old  gentleman, 
and  labored  so  hard  that  his  quick  progress  surprised  even 
himself.  It  was  while  he  was  engaged  in  this  pursuit  that 
he  was  greatly  startled  and  distressed  by  a  most  unexpected 
occurrence. 

The  little  room  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  sit  when 
busy  at  his  books  was  on  the  ground- floor  at  the  back  of  the 
house.  It  was  quite  a  cottage-room,  with  a  lattice-window, 
around  which  were  clusters  of  jessamine  and  honeysuckle 
that  crept  over  the  casement  and  filled  the  place  with  their 
delicious  perfume.  It  looked  into  the  garden,  whence  a 
wicket-gate  opened  into  a  small  paddock  ;  all  beyond  was 
fine  meadow-land  and  wood.  There  was  no  other  dwelling 
near  in  that  direction,  and  the  prospect  it  commanded  was 
very  extensive. 

One  beautiful  evening,  when  the  first  shades  of  twilight 
were  beginning  to  settle  upon  the  earth,  Oliver  sat  at  this 
window  intent  upon  his  books.  He  had  been  pouring  over 
them  for  some  time,  and  as  the  day  had  been  uncommonly 
sultry,  and  he  had  exerted  himself  a  great  deal,  it  is  no  dis- 
paragement to  the  authors,  whoever  they  may  have  been,  to 
say  that  gradually  and  by  slow  degrees  he  fell  asleep. 

There  is  a  kind  of  sleep  that  steals  upon  us  sometimes, 
which,  while  it  holds  the  body  prisoner,  does  not  free  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  259 

mind  from  a  sense  of  things  about  it  and  enable  it  to  ramble 
at  its  pleasure.  So  far  as  an  overpowering  heaviness,  a  pros- 
tration of  strength,  and  an  utter  inability  to  control  our 
thoughts  or  power  of  motion  can  be  called  sleep,  this  is  it ; 
and  yet  we  have  a  consciousness  of  all  that  is  going  on  about 
us,  and,  if  we  dream  at  such  a  time,  words  which  are  really 
spoken,  or  sounds  which  really  exist  at  the  moment,  accom- 
modate themselves  with  surprising  readiness  to  our  visions, 
until  reality  and  imagination  become  so  strangely  blended 
that  it  is  afterward  almost  matter  of  impossibility  to  sepa- 
rate the  two.  Nor  is  this  the  most  striking  phenomenon  in- 
cidental to  such  a  state.  It  is  an  undoubted  fact,  that 
although  our  senses  of  touch  and  sight  be  for  the  time  dead, 
yet  our  sleeping  thoughts  and  the  visionary  scenes  that  pass 
before  ust  will  be  influenced,  and  materially  influenced,  by 
the  mere  silent  presence  of  some  external  object  which  may 
not  have  been  near  us  when  we  closed  our  eyes,  and  of 
whose  vicinity  we  have  had  no  waking  consciousness. 

Oliver  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  in  his  own  little 
room  ;  that  his  books  were  lying  on  the  table  before  him  ; 
that  the  sweet  air  was  stirring  among  the  creeping  plants 
outside.  And  yet  he  was  asleep.  Suddenly  the  scene  changed  ; 
the  air  became  close  and  confined  ;  and  he  thought,  with  a 
glow  of  terror,  that  he  was  in  the  Jew's  house  again.  There 
sat  the  hideous  old  man,  in  his  accustomed  corner,  pointing 
at  him,  and  whispering  to  another  man,  with  his  face  averted, 
who  sat  beside  him. 

"  Hush,  my  dear  !  "  he  thought  he  heard  the  Jew  say  ;  "  it 
is  he,  sure  enough.     Come  away." 

"  He  !  "  the  other  man  seemed  to  answer  ;  "  could  I  mis- 
take him,  think  you  ?  If  a  crowd  of  ghosts  were  to  put 
themselves  into  his  exact  shape,  and  he  stood  among  them, 
there  is  something  that  would  tell  me  how  to  point  him  out. 
If  you  buried  him  fifty  feet  deep,  and  took  me  across  his 
grave,  I  fancy  I  should  know,  if  there  wasn't  a  mark  above 
it,  that  he  lay  buried  there  !  " 

The  man  seemed  to  say  this  with  such  dreadful  hatred, 
that  Oliver  awoke  with  the  fear,  and  started  up. 

Good  Heaven  !  what  was  that  which  sent  the  blood  ting- 
ling to  his  heart,  and  deprived  him  of  his  voice,  and  of 
power  to  move  !  There — there — at  the  window — close  be- 
fore him — so  close  that  he  could  have  almost  touched  him 
before  he  started  back,  with  his  eyes  peering  into  the  room, 


26o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

and  meeting  his,  there  stood  the  Jew  !  And  beside  him, 
white  with  rage  or  fear,  or  both,  were  the  scowling  features 
of  the  very  man  who  had  accosted  him  in  the  inn-yard. 

It  was  was  but  an  instant,  a  glance,  a  flash,  before  his 
eyes  ;  and  they  were  gone.  But  they  had  recognized  him, 
and  he  them  ;  and  their  look  was  as  firmly  impressed  upon 
his  memory  as  if  it  had  been  deeply  carved  in  stone,  and  set 
before  him  from  his  birth.  He  stood  transfixed'  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  then,  leaping  from  the  window  into  the  garden,  called 
loudly  for  help. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CONTAINING  THE  UNSATISFACTORY  RESULT  OF  OLIVER'S 
ADVENTURE,  AND  A  CONVERSATION  OF  SOME  IMPORT- 
ANCE   BETWEEN    HARRY    MAYLIE    AND    ROSE. 

When  the  inmates  of  the  house,  attracted  by  Oliver's 
cries,  hurried  to  the  spot  from  which  they  proceeded,  they 
found  him,  pale  and  agitated,  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the 
meadows  behind  the  house,  and  scarcely  able  to  articulate 
the  words,  "  The  Jew  !  the  Jew  !  " 

Mr.  Giles  was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  what  this  outcry 
meant  ;  but  Harry  Maylie,  whose  perceptions  were  some- 
thing quicker,  and  who  had  heard  Oliver's  history  from  his 
mother,  understood  it  at  once. 

"  What  direction  did  he  take  ?  "  he  asked,  catching  up  a 
heavy  stick  which  was  standing  in  a  corner. 

"That,"  replied  Oliver,  pointing  out  the  course  the  man 
had  taken  ;  "  I  missed  them  in  an  instant." 

"  Then  they  are  in  the  ditch  !  "  said  Harry.  "  Follow  ! 
And  keep  as  near  me  as  you  can."  So  saying,  he  sprang 
over  the  hedge,  and  darted  off  with  a  speed  which  rendered 
it  matter  of  exceeding  difficulty  for  the  others  to  keep  near 
him. 

Giles  followed  as  well  as  he  could,  and  Oliver  followed 
too  ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  minute  or  two,  Mr.  Losberne, 
who  had  been  out  walking,  and  just  then  returned,  tumbled 
over  the  hedge  after  them,  and  picking  himself  up  with  more 
agility  than  he  could  have  been  supposed  to  possess,  struck 
into  the  same  course  at  no  contemptible  speed,  shouting  all 
the  while  most  prodigiously  to  know  what  was  the  matter. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  261 

On  they  all  went ;  nor  stopped  they  once  to  breathe  until 
the  leader,  striking  off  into  an  angle  of  the  field  indicated  by 
Oliver,  began  to  search  narrowly  the  ditch  and  hedge  adjoin- 
ing, which  afforded  time  for  the  remainder  of  the  party  to 
come  up,  and  for  Oliver  to  communicate  to  Mr.  Losberne 
the  circumstances  that  had  led  to  so  vigorous  a  pursuit. 

The  search  was  all  in  vain.  There  were  not  even  the  traces 
of  recent  footsteps  to  be  seen.  They  stood  now  on  the 
summit  of  a  little  hill  commanding  the  open  fields  in  every 
direction  for  three  or  four  miles.  There  was  the  village  in 
the  hollow  on  the  left ;  but,  in  order  to.  gain  that,  after  pur- 
suing the  track  Oliver  had  pointed  out,  the  men  must  have 
made  a  circuit  of  open  ground,  which  it  was  impossible  they 
could  have  accomplished  in  so  short  a  time.  A  thick  wood 
skirted  the  meadow-land  in  another  direction,  but  they  could 
not  have  gained  that  covert  for  the  same  reason. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  dream,  Oliver,"  said  Harry  Maylie. 

"Oh  no,  indeed,  sir  !  "  replied  Oliver,  shuddering  at  the 
very  recollection  of  the  old  wretch's  countenance  ;  "  I  saw 
him  too  plainly  for  that.  I  saw  them  both  as  plainly  as  I 
see  you  now." 

"  Who  was  the  other  ? "  inquired  Harry  and  Mr.  Losberne 
together. 

"  The  very  same  man  I  told  you  of,  who  came  so  suddenly 
upon  me  at  the  inn,"  said  Oliver.  "  We  had  our  eyes  fixed 
full  upon  each  other  ;  and  I  could  swear  to  him." 

"  They   took   this  way  ? "  demanded    Harry  :  "  are   you 


sure  t 

"  As  I  am  that  the  men  were  at  the  window,"  replied 
Oliver,  pointing  down  as  he  spoke  to  the  hedge  which  di- 
vided the  cottage  garden  from  the  meadow.  "  The  tall  man 
leaped  over  just  there  ;  and  the  Jew,  running  a  few  paces  to 
the  right,  crept  through  that  gap." 

The  two  gentlemen  watched  Oliver's  earnest  face  as  he 
spoke,  and,  looking  from  him  to  each  other,  seemed  to  feel 
satisfied  of  the  accuracy  of  what  he  said.  Still  in  no  direc- 
tion were  there  any  appearances  of  the  tramping  of  men  in 
hurried  flight.  The  grass  was  long,  but  it  was  trodden  down 
nowhere,  save  where  their  own  feet  had  crushed  it.  The 
sides  and  brinks  of  the  ditches  were  of  damp  clay  ;  but  in 
no  one  place  could  they  discern  the  print  of  men's  shoes,  or 
the  slightest  mark  which  would  indicate  that  any  feet  had 
pressed  the  ground  for  hours  before. 


26*  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  This  is  strange  !  "  said  Harry. 

"  Strange  ? "  echoed  the  doctor.  "  Blathers  and  Duff 
themselves  could  make  nothing  of  it !  " 

Notwithstanding  the  evidently  useless  nature  of  their 
search,  they  did  not  desist  until  the  coming  on  of  night  ren- 
dered its  further  prosecution  hopeless  ;  and  even  then  they 
gave  it  up  with  reluctance.  Giles  was  dispatched  to  the 
different  ale-houses  in  the  village,  furnished  with  the  best 
description  Oliver  could  give  of  the  appearance  and  dress  of 
the  strangers.  Of  these  the  Jew  was,  at  all  events,  suffi- 
ciently remarkable  to  be  remembered,  supposing  he  had  been 
seen  drinking  or  loitering  about  ;  but  Giles  returned  without 
any  intelligence  calculated  to  dispel  or  lessen  the  mystery. 

On  the  next  day  fresh  search  was  made,  and  the  inquiries 
renewed,  but  with  no  better  success.  On  the  day  following, 
Oliver  and  Mr.  Maylie  repaired  to  the  market-town,  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  or  hearing  something  of  the  men  there  ;  but 
this  effort  was  equally  fruitless.  After  a  few  days  the  affair 
began  to  be  foi  gotten,  as  most  affairs  are,  when  wonder, 
having  no  fresh  food  to  support  it,  dies  away  of  itself. 

Meanwhile  Rose  was  rapidly  recovering.  She  had  left  her 
room  ;  was  able  to  go  out  ;  and,  mixing  once  more  with  the 
family,  carried  joy  into  the  hearts  of  all. 

But  although  this  happy  change  had  a  visible  effect  on  the 
little  circle,  and  although  cheerful  voices  and  merry  laugh- 
ter were  once  more  heard  in  the  cottage,  there  was  at  times 
an  unwonted  restraint  upon  some  there,  even  upon  Rose 
herself,  which  Oliver  could  not  fail  to  remark.  Mrs.  Maylie 
and  her  son  were  often  closeted  together  for  a  long  time  ; 
and  more  than  once  Rose  appeared  with  traces  of  tears  upon 
her  face.  After  Mr.  Losberne  had  fixed  a  day  for  his  depar- 
ture to  Chertsey  these  symptoms  increased  ;  and  it  became 
evident  that  something  was  in  progress  which  affected  the 
peace  of  the  young  lady,  and  somebody  else  besides. 

At  length,  one  morning,  when  Rose  was  alone  in  the 
breakfast-parlor,  Harry  Maylie  entered  ;  and,  with  some  hesi- 
tation, begged  permission  to  speak  with  her  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. 

"  A  few — a  very  few — will  suffice,  Rose,"  said  the  young 
man,  drawing  his  chair  toward  her.  "  What  I  shall  have  to 
say  has  already  presented  itself  to  your  mind  ;  the  most 
cherished  hopes  of  my  heart  are  not  unknown  to  you,  though 
from  my  lips  you  have  not  yet  heard  them  stated." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  263 

Rose  had  been  very  pale  from  the  moment  01  his  en- 
trance, but  that  might  have  been  the  effect  of  her  recent  ill- 
ness. She  merely  bowed,  and,  bending  over  some  plants 
that  stood  near,  waited  in  silence  for  him  to  proceed. 

"  I — I — ought  to  have  left  here  before,"  said  Harry. 

"  You  should,  indeed,"  replied  Rose.  "  Forgive  me  for 
saying  so,  but  I  wish  you  had." 

"  I  was  brought  here  by  the  most  dreadful  and  agonizing 
of  all  apprehensions,"  said  the  young  man  :  "  the  fear  of 
losing  the  one  dear  being  on  whom  my  every  wish  and  hope 
are  fixed.  You  had  been  dying — trembling  between  earth 
and  heaven.  We  know  that  when  the  young,  the  beautiful, 
and  good  are  visited  with  sickness,  their  pure  spirits  insen- 
sibly turn  toward  their  bright  home  of  lasting  rest ;  we 
know,  Heaven  help  us  !  that  the  best  and  fairest  of  our  kind 
too  often  fade  in  blooming." 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  gentle  girl  as  these 
words  were  spoken  ;  and  when  one  fell  upon  the  flower  over 
which  she  bent,  and  glistened  brightly  in  its  cup,  making  it 
more  beautiful,  it  seemed  as  though  the  outpouring  of  her 
fresh  young  heart  claimed  kindred  naturally  with  the  love- 
liest things  in  nature. 

"  A  creature,"  continued  the  young  man,  passionately — 
"  a  creature  as  fair  and  innocent  of  guile  as  one  of  God's 
own  angels,  fluttered  between  life  and  death.  Oh  !  who  could 
hope,  when  the  distant  world  to  which  she  was  akin  half 
opened  to  her  view,  that  she  would  return  to  the  sorrow  and 
calamity  of  this  !  Rose,  Rose,  to  know  that  you  were  pass- 
ing away  like  some  soft  shadow  which  a  light  from  above 
casts  upon  the  earth  ;  to  have  no  hope  that  you  would  be 
spared  to  those  who  linger  here  ;  hardly  to  know  a  reason 
why  you  should  be  ;  to  feel  that  you  belonged  to  that  bright 
sphere  whither  so  many  of  the  fairest  and  the  best 
have  winged  their  early  flight  ;  and  yet  to  pray,  amidst 
all  these  consolations,  that  you  might  be  restored  to  those 
who  loved  you — these  were  distractions  almost  too  great 
to  bear.  They  were  mine,  by  day  and  night  ;  and 
with  them  came  such  a  rushing  torrent  of  fears,  and  appre- 
hensions, and  selfish  regrets,  lest  you  should  die,  and  never 
know  how  devotedly  I  loved  you,  as  almost  bore  down  sense 
and  reason  in  its  course.  You  recovered.  Day  by  day,  and 
almost  hour  by  hour,  some  drop  of  health  came  back,  and, 
mingling  with  the  spent  and  feeble  stream  of  life  which  cir- 


264  OLIVER  TWIST. 

culated  languidly  within  you,  swelled  it  again  to  a  high  and 
rushing  tide.  I  have  watched  you  change  almost  from  death 
to  life  with  eyes  that  turned  blind  with  their  eagerness  and 
deep  affection.  Do  not  tell  me  that  you  wish  I  had  lost 
this  ;  for  it  has  softened-my  heart  to  all  mankind." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that,"  said  Rose,  weeping  ;  "  I  only  wish 
you  had  left  here,  that  you  might  have  turned  to  high  and 
noble  pursuits  again  ;  to  pursuits  well  worthy  of  you." 

"  There  is  no  pursuit  more  worthy  of  me,  more  worthy  of 
the  highest  nature  that  exists,  than  the  struggle  to  win  such 
a  heart  as  yours,"  said  the  young  man  taking  her  hand. 
"  Rose,  my  own  dear  Rose  !  For  years — for  years — I  have 
loved  you  ;  hoping  to  win  my  way  to  fame,  and  then  come 
proudly  home  and  tell  you  it  had  been  pursued  only  for  you 
to  share  ;  thinking,  in  my  day-dreams,  how  I  would  remind 
yOH,  in  that  happy  moment,  of  the  many  silent  tokens  I  had 
given  of  a  boy's  attachment,  and  claim  your  hand,  as  in  re- 
demption of  some  old  mute  contract  that  had  been  sealed 
between  us  !  That  time  has  not  arrived  ;  but  here,  with 
no  fame  won,  and  no  young  vision  realized,  I  offer  you  the 
heart  so  long  your  own,  and  stake  my  all  upon  the  words 
with  which  you  greet  the  offer." 

"Your  behavior  has  ever  been  kind  and  noble,"  said 
Rose,  mastering  the  emotions  by  which  she  was  agitated. 
"  As  you  believe  that  I  am  not  insensible  or  imgrateful,  so 
hear  my  answer." 

"  It  is,  that  I  may  endeavor  to  deserve  you  ;  it  is,  dear 
Rose  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  replied  Rose,  "  that  you  must  endeavor  to  forget 
me  ;  not  as  your  old  and  dearly-attached  companion,  for 
that  would  wound  me  deeply,  but  as  the  object  of  your  love. 
Look  into  the  world  ;  think  how  many  hearts  you  would  be 
proud  to  gain  are  there.  Confide  some  other  passion  to  me, 
if  you  will  ;  I  will  be  the  truest,  warmest,  and  most  faithful 
friend  you  have." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Rose,  who  had  covered 
her  face  with  one  hand,  gave  free  vent  to  her  tears.  Harry 
still  retained  the  other. 

"And  your  reasons,  Rose,"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  low 
voice :  "  your  reasons  for  this  decision  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  right  to  know  them,"  rejoined  Rose.  "You 
can  say  nothing  to  alter  my  resolution.  It  is  a  duty  that  I 
must  perform.     I  owe  it  alike  to  others  and  to  myself." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  265 

"  To  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Harry.  I  owe  it  to  myself,  that  I,  a  friendless,  por- 
tionless girl,  with  a  blight  upon  my  name,  should  not  give 
your  friends  reason  to  suspect  that  I  had  sordidly  yielded  to 
your  first  passion,  and  fastened  myself,  a  clog,  on  all  your 
hopes  and  projects.  1  owe  it  to  you  and  yours,  to  prevent 
you  from  opposing,  in  the  warmth  of  your  generous  nature, 
this  great  obstacle  to  your  progress  in  the  world." 

"  If  your  inclinations  chime  with  your  sense  of  duty — " 
Harry  began. 

"They  do  not,"  replied  Rose,  coloring  deeply. 

"  Then  you  return  my  love  ? "  said  Harry.  "  Say  but 
that,  dear  Rose  ;  say  but  that,  and  soften  the  bitterness  of 
this  hard  disappointment  !  " 

"  If  I  could  have  done  so,  without  doing  heavy  wrong  to 
him  I  loved,"  rejoined  Rose,  "  I  could  have — " 

"  Have  received  this  declaration  very  differently,"  said 
Harry.     "  Do  not  conceal  that  from  me,  at  least,  Rose." 

"  I  could,"  said  Rose.  "  Stay  !  "  she  added,  disengaging 
her  hand,  "why  should  we  prolong  this  painful  interview? 
Most  painful  to  me,  and  yet  productive  of  lasting  happiness, 
notwithstanding  ;  for  it  will  be  happiness  to  know  that  I 
once  held  the  high  place  in  your  regard  which  I  now  occupy, 
and  every  triumph  you  achieve  in  life  will  animate  me  with 
new  fortitude  and  firmness.  Farewell,  Harry  !  As  we  have 
met  to-day,  we  meet  no  more  ;  but  in  other  relations  than 
those  in  which  this  conversation  would  have  placed  us,  we 
may  be  long  and  happily  entwined  ;  and  may  every  blessing 
that  the  prayers  of  a  true  and  earnest  heart  can  call  down 
from  the  source  of  all  truth  and  sincerity  cheer  and  prosper 
you  !  " 

"  Another  word,  Rose,"  said  Harry.  "  Your  reason  in 
your  own  words.     From  your  own  lips  let  me  hear  it  !  " 

"  The  prospect  before  you,"  answered  Rose,  firmly,  "  is  a 
brilliant  one.  All  the  honors  to  which  great  talents  and 
powerful  connections  can  help  men  in  public  life  are  in  store 
for  you.  But  those  connections  are  proud  ;  and  I  will 
neither  mingle  with  such  as  may  hold  in  scorn  the  mother 
who  gave  me  life,  nor  bring  disgrace  or  failure  on  the  son  of 
her  who  has  so  well  supplied  that  mother's  place.  In  a 
word,"  said  the  young  lady,  turning  away,  as  her  temporary 
firmness  forsook  her,  "  there  is  a  stain  upon  my  name  which 
the  world  visits  on  innocent  heads.     I  will  carry  it  into  no 


266  OLIVER  TWIST. 

blood  but  my  own  ;  and  the  reproach  shaD  rest  alone  on 
me." 

"  One  word  more,  Rose.  Dearest  Rose,  one  more  !  "cried 
Harry,  throwing  himself  before  her.  "  If  I  had  been  less — 
less  fortunate,  the  world  would  call  it — if  some  obscure  and 
peaceful  life  had  been  my  destiny — if  I  had  been  poor,  sick, 
helpless — would  you  have  turned  from  me  then  ?  Or  has 
my  probable  advancement  to  riches  and  honor  given  this 
scruple  birth  ?  " 

"  Do  not  press  me  to  reply,"  answered  Rose.  "  The 
question  does  not  arise,  and  never  will.  It  is  unfair,  almost 
unkind,  to  urge  it." 

"  If  your  answer  be  what  I  almost  dare  to  hope  it  is,"  re- 
torted Harry,  "  it  will  shed  a  gleam  of  happiness  upon  my 
lonely  way,  and  light  the  path  before  me.  It  is  not  an  idle 
thing  to  do  so  much,  by  the  utterance  of  a  few  brief  words, 
for  one  who  loves  you  beyond  all  else.  Oh,  Rose  !  in  the 
name  of  my  ardent  and  enduring  attachment  ;  in  the  name 
of  all  I  have  suffered  for  you,  and  all  you  doom  me  to  un- 
dergo, answer  me  this  one  question  !  " 

"  Then,  if  your  lot  had  been  differently  cast,"  rejoined 
Rose  ;  "if  you  had  been  even  a  little,  but  not  so  far,  above 
me  ;  if  I  could  have  been  a  help  and  comfort  to  you  in  any 
humble  scene  of  peace  and  retirement,  and  not  a  blot  and 
drawback  in  ambitious  and  distinguished  crowds,  I  should 
have  been  spared  this  trial.  I  have  every  reason  to  be 
happy,  very  happy,  now  ;  but  then,  Harry,  I  own  I  should 
have  been  happier." 

Busy  recollections  of  old  hopes,  cherished  as  a  girl  long 
ago,  crowded  into  the  mind  of  Rose  while  making  this 
avowal  ;  but  they  brought  tears  with  them,  as  old  hopes  will 
when  they  come  back  withered  ;  and  they  relieved  her. 

"  I  can  not  help  this  weakness,  and  it  makes  my  purpose 
stronger,"  said  Rose,  extending  her  hand.  "  I  must  leave 
you  now,  indeed." 

"  I  ask  one  promise,"  said  Harry.  "  Once,  and  only  once 
more — say  within  a  year,  but  it  may  be  much  sooner — I  may 
speak  to  you  again  on  this  subject  for  the  last  time." 

"  Not  to  press  me  to  alter  my  right  determination,"  re- 
plied Rose,  with  a  melancholy  smile  ;  "  it  will  be  useless." 

"  No,"  said  Harry  ;  "to  hear  you  repeat  it,  if  you  will — 
finally  repeat  it !  I  will  lay  at  your  feet  whatever  of  station 
or  fortune  I  may  possess  ;  and  if  you  still  adhere  to  .your 


OLIVER  TWIST.  267 

present  resolution,  will  not  seek,  by  word  or  act,  to  change 
it." 

"  Then  let  it  be  so,"  rejoined  Rose  ;  "  it  is  but  one  pang 
the  more,  and  by  that  time  I  may  be  enabled  to  bear  it  bet- 
ter." 

She  extended  her  hand  again.  But  the  young  man  caught 
her  to  his  bosom,  and  imprinting  one  kiss  on  her  beautiful 
forehead,  hurried  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

IS  A  VERY  SHORT  ONE,  AND  MAY  APPEAR  OF  NO  GREAT  IM- 
PORTANCE IN  ITS  PLACE  ;  BUT  IT  SHOULD  BE  READ  NOT- 
WITHSTANDING, AS  A  SEQUEL  TO  THE  LAST,  AND  A  KEY 
TO  ONE  THAT  WILL  FOLLOW  WHEN  ITS  TIME  ARRIVES. 

"  And  so  you  are  resolved  to  be  my  traveling  companion 
this  morning,  eh?"  said  the  doctor,  as  Harry  Maylie  joined 
him  and  Oliver  at  the  breakfast-table.  "  Why,  you  are  not 
in  the  same  mind  or  intention  two  half  hours  together  !  " 

"You  will  tell  me  a  different  tale  one  of  these  days,"  said 
Harry,  coloring,  without  any  perceptible  reason. 

"  I  hope  I  may  have  good  cause  to  do  so,"  replied  Mr. 
Losberne  ;  "  though  I  confess  I  don't  think  I  shall.  But 
yesterday  morning  you  had  made  up  your  mind,  in  a  great 
hurry,  to  stay  here,  and  to  accompany  your  mother,  like  a 
dutiful  son,  to  the  seaside.  Before  noon  you  announce  that 
you  are  going  to  do  me  the  honor  of  accompanying  me,  as 
far  as  I  go,  on  your  road  to  London.  And  at  night  you  urge 
me,  with  great  mystery,  to  start  before  the  ladies  are  stirring  ; 
the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  young  Oliver  here  is 
pinned  down  to  his  breakfast,  when  he  ought  to  be  ranging 
the  meadows  after  botanical  phenomena  of  all  kinds.  Too 
bad,  isn't  it,  Oliver  ?  " 

"I  should  have  been  very  sorry  not  to  have  been  at  home 
when  you  and  Mr.  Maylie  went  away,  sir,"  rejoined  Oliver. 

"  That's  a  fine  fellow  !  "  said  the  doctor  ;  "  you  shall 
come  and  see  me  when  you  return.  But,  to  speak  seriously, 
Harry,  has  any  communication  from  the  great  nobs  pro- 
duced this  sudden  anxiety  on  your  part  to  be  gone  ? " 

"  The  great  nobs,"  replied  Harry,  "  under  which  designa- 


263  OLIVER  TWIST. 

tion,  I  presume,  you  include  my  most  stately  uncle,  have 
not  communicated  with  me  at  all  since  I  have  been  here  ; 
nor,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  is  it  likely  that  any  thing  would 
occur  to  render  necessary  my  immediate  attendance  among 
them." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  are  a  queer  fellow.  But  of 
course  they  will  get  you  into  Parliament  at  the  election  be- 
fore Christmas,  and  these  sudden  shiftings  and  changes  are 
no  bad  preparation  for  political  life.  There's  something  in 
that.  Good  training  is  always  desirable,  whether  the  race 
be  for  place,  cup,  or  sweepstakes." 

Harry  Maylie  looked  as  if  he  could  have  followed  up  this 
short  dialogue  by  one  or  two  remarks  that  would  have  stag- 
gered the  doctor  not  a  little  ;  but  he  contented  himself  with 
saying,  "  We  shall  see,"  and  pursued  the  subject  no  further. 
The  post-chaise  drove  up  to  the  door  shortly  afterward  ; 
and  Giles  coming  in  for  the  luggage,  the  good  doctor  bustled 
out  to  see  it  packed. 

"Oliver,"  said  Harry  Maylie,  in  a  low  voice,  "let  me 
speak  a  word  to  you." 

Oliver  walked  into  the  window-recess  to  which  Mr.  May- 
lie  beckoned  him,  much  surprised  at  the  mixture  of  sadness 
and  boisterous  spirits  which  his  whole  behavior  displayed. 

"You  can  write  well  now  ?"  said  Harry,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  arm. 

"  I  hope  so,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  I  shall  not  be  at  home  again,  perhaps,  for  some  time  ;  I 
wish  you  would  write  to  me — say  once  a  fortnight,  every 
alternate  Monday,  to  the  General  Post-office  in  London. 
Will  you?" 

"  Oh  !  certainly,  sir  ;  I  shall  be  proud  to  do  it,"  exclaimed 
Oliver,  greatly  delighted  with  the  commission. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how — how  my  mother  and  Miss 
Maylie  are,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "  and  you  can  fill  up  a 
sheet  by  telling  me  what  walks  you  take,  and  what  you  talk 
about,  and  whether  she — they,  I  mean — seem  happy  and 
quite  well.     You  understand  me  ?  " 

"Oh  !  quite,  sir,  quite,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  I  would  rather  you  did  not  mention  it  to  them,"  said 
Harry,  hurrying  over  his  words  ;  "because  it  might  make 
my  mother  anxious  to  write  to  me  oftener,  and  it  is  a  trouble 
and  worry  to  her.  Let  it  be  a  secret  between  you  and  me  ; 
and  mind  you  tell  me  every  thing  !     I  depend  upon  you." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  269 

Oliver,  quite  elated  and  honored  by  a  sense  of  his  import- 
ance, faithfully  promised  to  be  secret  and  explicit  in  his 
communications.  Mr.  Maylie  took  leave  of  him,  with  many 
assurances  of  his  regard  and  protection. 

The  doctor  was  in  the  chaise  ;  Giles  (who  it  had  been 
arranged,  should  be  left  behind)  held  the  door  open  in  his 
hand,  and  the  women  servants  were  in  the  garden,  looking 
on.  Harry  cast  one  slight  glance  at  the  latticed  window, 
and  jumped  into  the  carriage. 

"  Drive  on  !  "  he  cried,  "  hard,  fast,  full  gallop  !  Nothing 
short  of  flying  will  keep  pace  with  me  to-day." 

"  Halloo  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  letting  down  the  front  glass 
in  a  great  hurry,  and  shouting  to  the  postilion  ;  "  something 
very  short  of  flying  will  keep  pace  with  me.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

Jingling  and  clattering,  till  distance  rendered  its  noise  in- 
audible, and  its  rapid  progress  only  perceptible  to  the  eye, 
the  vehicle  wound  its  way  along  the  road,  almost  hidden  in 
a  cloud  of  dust  ;  now  wholly  disappearing,  and  now  becom- 
ing visible  again,  as  intervening  objects,  or  the  intricacies  of 
the  way,  permitted.  It  was  not  until  even  the  dusty  cloud 
was  no  longer  to  be  seen  that  the  gazers  dispersed. 

And  there  was  one  looker-on,  who  remained  with  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  spot  where  the  carriage  had  disappeared  long 
after  it  was  many  miles  away  ;  for,  behind  the  white  curtain 
which  had  shrouded  her  from  view  when  Harry  raised  his 
eyes  toward  the  window,  sat  Rose  herself. 

"  He  seems  in  high  spirits  and  happy,"  she  said,  at  length. 
"  I  feared  for  a  time  he  might  be  otherwise.  I  was  mis- 
taken.    I  am  very,  very  glad." 

-:  Tears  are  signs  of  gladness  as  well  as  giief  ;  but  those 
which  coursed  down  Rose's  face  as  she  sat  pensively  at  the 
window,  still  gazing  in  the  same  direction,  seemed  to  tell 
more  of  sorrow  than  of  ioy. 


27o  OLIVER  TWIST. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

IN    WHICH    THE    READER    MAY     PERCEIVE    A     CONTRAST    NOT 
UNCOMMON    IN    MATRIMONIAL    CASES. 

Mr.  Bumble  sat  in  the  work-house  parlor,  with  his  eyes 
moodily  fixed  on  the  cheerless  grate,  whence,  as  it  was 
summer-time,  no  brighter  gleam  proceeded  than  the  reflec- 
tion of  certain  sickly  rays  of  the  sun,  which  were  sent  back 
from  its  cold  and  shining  surface.  A  paper  fly-cage  dangled 
from  the  ceiling,  to  which  he  occasionally  raised  his  eyes  in 
gloomy  thought  ;  and,  as  the  heedless  insects  hovered  round 
the  gaudy  net-work,  Mr.  Bumble  would  heave  a  deep  sigh, 
while  a  more  gloomy  shadow  overspread  his  countenance. 
Mr.  Bumble  was  meditating  ;  it  might  be  that  the  insects 
brought  to  mind  some  painful  passage  in  his  own  past  life. 
Nor  was  Mr.  Bumble's  gloom  the  only  thing  calculated  tc 
awaken  a  pleasing  melancholy  in  the  bosom  of  a  spectator. 
There  were  not  wanting  other  appearances,  and  those  closely 
connected  with  his  own  person,  which  announced  that  a 
great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  position  of  his  affairs. 
The  laced  coat  and  the  cocked  hat,  where  were  they  ?  He 
still  wore  knee-breeches,  and  dark  cotton  stockings  on  his 
nether  limbs  ;  but  they  were  not  the  breeches.  The  coat 
was  wide-skirted  ;  and  in  that  respect  like  the  coat,  but,  oh, 
how  different !  The  mighty  cocked  hat  was  replaced  by  a 
modest  round  one.     Mr.  Bumble  was  no  longer  a  beadle. 

There  are  some  promotions  in  life,  which,  independent  of 
the  more  substantial  rewards  they  offer,  acquire  peculiar 
value  and  dignity  from  the  coats  and  waistcoats  connected 
with  them.  A  field-marshal  has  his  uniform  ;  a  bishop  his 
silk  apron  ;  a  counselor  his  silk  gown  ;  a  beadle  his  cocked 
hat.  Strip  the  bishop  of  his  apron,  or  the  beadle  of  his  hat 
and  lace,  what  are  they  ?  Men.  Mere  men.  Dignity,  and 
even  holiness  too,  sometimes,  are  more  questions  of  coat 
and  waistcoat  than  some  people  imagine. 

Mr.  Bumble  had  married  Mrs.  Corney,  and  was  master  of 
the  work-house.  Another  beadle  had  come  into  power.  On 
him  the  cocked  hat,  gold-laced  coat,  and  staff  had  all  three 
descended. 

"  And  to-morrow  two  months  it  was  done  !  "  said  Mr. 
Bumble,  with  a  sigh.     "  It  seems  a  age." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  271 

Mr.  Bumble  might  have  meant  that  he  had  concentrated 
a  whole  existence  of  happiness  into  the  short  space  of  eight 
weeks  ;  but  the  sigh — there  was  a  vast  deal  of  meaning  in 
the  sigh. 

"I  sold  myself,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  pursuing  the  same 
train  of  reflection,  "  for  six  tea-spoons,  a  pair  of  sugar- 
tongs,  and  a  milk-pot,  with  a  small  quantity  of  second-hand 
furniture,  and  twenty  pound  in  money.  I  went  very  reason- 
able.    Cheap,  dirt  cheap  !  " 

11  Cheap  !  "  cried  a  shrill  voice  in  Mr.  Bumble's  ear  : 
"  you  would  have  been  dear  at  any  price  ;  and  dear  enough 
I  paid  for  you,  Lord  above  knows  that  !  " 

Mr.  Bumble  turned,  and  encountered  the  face  of  his  in- 
teresting consort,  who,  imperfectly  comprehending  the  few 
words  she  had  overheard  of  his  complaint,  had  hazarded  the 
foregoing  remark  at  a  venture. 

"  Mrs.  Bumble,  ma'am  !"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  with  a  senti- 
mental sternness. 

"  Well  !  "  cried  the  lady. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  look  at  me,"  said  Mr.  Bumble, 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  her.  (  "  If  she  stands  such  a  eye  as 
that,"  said  Mr.  Bumble  to  himself,  "  she  can  stand  any 
thing.  It  is  a  eye  I  never  knew  to  fail  with  paupers.  If  it 
fails  with  her,  my  power  is  gone.") 

Whether  an  exceedingly  small  expansion  of  eye  be  suffi- 
cient to  quell  paupers,  who,  being  lightly  fed,  are  in  no  very 
high  condition,  or  whether  the  late  Mrs.  Corney  was  par- 
ticularly proof  against  eagle  glances,  are  matters  of  opinion. 
The  matter  of  fact  is,  that  the  matron  was  in  no  way  over- 
powered by  Mr.  Bumble's  scowl,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
treated  it  with  great  disdain,  and  even  raised  a  laugh  thereat 
which  sounded  as  though  it  were  genuine. 

On  hearing  this  most  unexpected  sound,  Mr.  Bumble 
looked,  first  incredulous,  and  afterward  amazed.  He  then 
relapsed  into  his  former  state,  nor  did  he  rouse  himself  until 
his  attention  was  again  awakened  by  the  voice  of  his 
partner. 

"  Are  you  going  to  sit  snoring  there  all  day  ? "  inquired 
Mrs.  Bumble. 

"  I  am  going  to  sit  here  as  long  as  I  think  proper,  ma'am," 
rejoined  Mr.  Bumble  ;  "  and  although  I  was  not  snoring,  I 
shall  snore,  gape,  sneeze,  laugh,  or  cry,  as  the  humor  strikes 
me  ;  such  being  my  prerogative." 


272  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Your  prerogative  !  "  sneered  Mrs.  Bumble,  with  ineffable 
contempt. 

"  I  said  the  word,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Bumble.  **  The  pre- 
rogative of  a  man  is  to  command." 

And  what's  the  prerogative  of  a  woman,  in  the  name  of 
Goodness  ?  "  cried  the  relict  of  Mr.  Corney,  deceased. 

"  To  obey,  ma'am,"  thundered  Mr.  Bumble.  "Your  late 
unfortunate  husband  should  have  taught  it  you  ;  and  then, 
perhaps,  he  might  have  been  alive  now.  I  wish  he  was, 
poor  man  !  " 

Mrs.  Bumble  seeing  at  a  glance  that  the  decisive  moment 
had  now  arrived,  and  that  a  blow  struck  for  the  mastership 
on  one  side  or  other  must  necessarily  be  final  and  con- 
clusive, no  sooner  heard  this  allusion  to  the  dead  and  gone 
than  she  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  with  a  loud  scream  that 
Mr.  Bumble  was  a  hard-hearted  brute,  fell  into  a  paroxysm 
of  tears. 

But  tears  were  not  the  things  to  find  their  way  to  Mr. 
Bumble's  soul  ;  his  heart  was  water-proof.  Like  washable 
beaver  hats  that  improve  with  rain,  his  nerves  were  rendered 
stouter  and  more  vigorous  by  showers  of  tears,  which,  being 
tokens  of  weakness,  and  so  far  tacit  admissions  of  his  own 
power,  pleased  and  exalted  him.  He  eyed  his  good  lady 
with  looks  of  great  satisfaction,  and  begged  in  an  encourag- 
ing manner,  that  she  should  cry  her  hardest  :  the  exercise 
being  looked  upon  by  the  faculty  as  strongly  conducive  to 
health. 

"It  opens  the  lungs,  washes  the  countenance,  exercises 
the  eyes,  and  softens  down  the  temper,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 
"So  cry  away." 

As  he  discharged  himself  of  this  pleasantry,  Mr.  Bumble 
took  his  hat  from  a  peg,  and  putting  it  on,  rather  rakishly, 
on  one  side,  as  a  man  might  who  felt  he  had  asserted  his 
superiority  in  a  becoming  manner,  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  and  sauntered  toward  the  door,  with  much  ease 
and  waggishness  depicted  in  his  whole  appearance. 

Now,  Mrs.  Corney  that  was  had  tried  the  tears,  because 
they  were  less  troublesome  than  a  manual  assault ;  but  she 
was  quite  prepared  to  make  trial  of  the  latter  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding, as  Mr.  Bumble  was  not  long  in  discovering. 

The  first  proof  he  experienced  of  the  fact  was  conveyed 
in  a  hollow  sound,  immediately  succeeded  by  the  sudden 
flying  off  of  his  hat  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  room.     This 


OLIVER  TWIST.  273 

preliminary  proceeding  laying  bare  his  head,  the  expert 
lady,  clasping  him  tightly  round  the  throat  with  one  hand, 
inflicted  a  shower  of  blows  (dealt  with  singular  vigor  and 
dexterity)  upon  it  with  the  other.  This  done,  she  created 
a  little  variety  by  scratching  his  face  and  tearing  his  hair  ; 
and  having,  by  this  time,  inflicted  as  much  punishment  as 
she  deemed  necessary  for  the  offense,  she  pushed  him  over 
a  chair,  which  was  luckily  well  situated  for  the  purpose,  and 
defied  him  to  talk  about  his  prerogative  again,  if  he   dared. 

"  Get  up  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bumble,  in  a  voice  of  command. 
"  And  take  yourself  away  from  here,  unless  you  want  me  to 
do  something  desperate." 

Mr.  Bumble  rose  with  a  very  rueful  countenance,  wonder- 
ing much  what  something  desperate  might  be.  Picking  up 
his  hat,  he  looked  toward  the  door. 

"  Are  you  going?"  demanded  Mrs.  Bumble. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  certainly,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble, 
making  a  quicker  motion  toward  Lhe  door.  "  I  didn't  intend 
to — I'm  going,  my  dear  !  You  are  so  very  violent,  that 
really  I — " 

At  this  instant  Mrs.  Bumble  stepped  hastily  forward  to 
replace  the  carpet,  which  had  been  kicked  up  in  the  scuffle. 
Mr.  Bumble  immediately  darted  out  of  the  room,  without 
bestowing  another  thought  on  his  unfinished  sentence,  leav- 
ing the  late  Mrs.  Corney  in  full  possession  of  the  field. 

Mr.  Bumble  was  fairly  taken  by  surprise,  and  fairly  beaten. 
He  had  a  decided  propensity  for  bullying  ;  derived  no  in- 
considerable pleasure  from  the  exercise  of  petty  cruelty  ; 
and,  consequently,  was  (it  is  needless  to  say)  a  coward.  This 
is  by  no  means  a  disparagement  to  his  character  ;  for  many 
official  personages,  who  are  held  in  high  respect  and  admi- 
ration, are  the  victims  of  similar  infirmities.  The  remark  is 
made,  indeed,  rather  in  his  favor  than  otherwise,  and  with  a 
view  of  impressing  the  reader  with  a  just  sense  of  his  quali- 
fications for  the  office. 

But  the  measure  of  his  degradation  was  not  yet  full.  Af- 
ter making  a  tour  of  the  house,  and  thinking,  for  the  first 
time,  that  the  poor-laws  really  were  too  hard  on  people  ; 
and  that  men  who  ran  away  from  their  wives,  leaving  them 
chargeable  to  the  parish,  ought,  in  justice,  to  be  visited  with 
no  punishment  at  all,  but  rather  rewarded  as  meritorious  in- 
dividuals who  had  suffered  much  ;  Mr.  Bumble  came  to  a 
room  where  some  ol   the  female  paupers  were  usually  em- 


274  OLIVER  TWIST. 

ployed  in  washing  the  parish  linen  ;  whence  the  sound  of 
voices  in  conversation  now  proceeded. 

*'  Hem  !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  summoning  up  all  his  native 
dignity.  "  These  women  at  least  shall  continue  to  respect 
the  prerogative.  Halloo  !  halloo  there  !  What  do  you  mean 
by  this  noise,  you  hussies  ? " 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Bumble  opened  the  door,  and 
walked  in  with  a  very  fierce  and  angry  manner  ;  which  was 
at  once  exchanged  for  a  most  humiliated  and  cowering  air, 
as  his  eyes  unexpectedly  rested  on  the  form  of  his  lady  wife. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  "  I  didn't  know  you  were 
here." 

"  Didn't  know  I  was  here !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Bumble. 
"  What  do  you  do  here  ?  " 

"  I  thought  they  were  talking  rather  too  much  to  be  doing 
their  work  properly,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  glancing 
distractedly  at  a  couple  of  old  women  at  the  wash-tub,  who 
were  comparing  notes  of  admiration  at  the  work-house  mas- 
ter's humility. 

You  thought  they  were  talking  too  much  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Bumble.     "  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear — "  urged  Mr.  Bumble,  submissively. 

"  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Bumble 
again. 

"  It's  very  true,  you're  matron  here,  my  dear,"  submitted 
Mr.  Bumble  ;  "  but  I  thought  you  mightn't  be  in  the  way 
just  then." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Bumble,"  returned  his  lady,  "  we 
don't  want  any  of  your  interference.  You're  a  great  deal 
too  fond  of  poking  your  nose  into  things  that  don't  concern 
you,  making  every  body  in  the  house  laugh  the  moment  your 
back  is  turned,  and  making  yourself  look  like  a  fool  every 
hour  in  the  day.     Be  off  ;  come  !  " 

Mr..  Bumble,  seeing  with  excruciating  feelings  the  delight 
of  the  two  old  paupers,  who  were  tittering  together  most 
rapturously,  hesitated  for  an  instant.  Mrs.  Bumble,  whose 
patience  brooked  no  delay,  caught  up  a  bowl  of  soap-suds, 
and  motioning  him  toward  the  door,  ordered  him  instantly 
to  depart,  on  pain  of  receiving  the  contents  upon  his  portly 
person. 

What  could  Mr.  Bumble  do  ?  He  looked  dejectedly  round, 
and  slunk  away  ;  and,  as  he  reached  the  door,  the  titterings 
of  the  paupers   broke  into  a  shrill  chuckle  of  irrepressible 


OLIVER  TWIST.  275 

delight.  It  wanted  but  this.  He  was  degraded  in  their 
eyes  ;  he  had  lost  caste  and  station  before  the  very  paupers  ; 
he  had  fallen  from  all  the  height  and  pomp  of  beadleship  to 
the  lowest  depth  of  the  most  snubbed  hen-peckery. 

"  All  in  two  months !  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  filled  with  dis- 
mal thoughts.  "Two  months  !  No  more  than  two  months 
ago,  I  was  not  only  my  own  master,  but  every  body  else's, 
so  far  as  the  porochial  work-house  was  concerned,  and 
now  !— " 

It  was  too  much,  Mr.  Bumble  boxed  the  ears  of  the  boy 
who  opened  the  gate  for  him  (for  he  had  reached  the  portal 
in  his  reverie),  and  walked  distractedly  into  the  street. 

He  walked  up  one  street,  and  down  another,  until  exercise 
had  abated  the  first  passion  of  his  grief  ;  and  then  the  re- 
vulsion of  feeling  made  him  thirsty.  He  passed  a  great  many 
public-houses,  but  at  length  paused  before  one  in  a  by-way, 
whose  parlor,  as  he  gathered  from  a  hasty  peep  over  the 
blinds,  was  deserted,  save  by  one  solitary  customer.  It  be- 
gan to  rain  heavily  at  the  moment.  This  determined  him. 
Mr.  Bumble  stepped  in,  and  ordering  something  to  drink  as 
he  passed  the  bar,  entered  the  apartment  into  which  he 
had  looked  from  the  street. 

The  man  who  was  seated  there  was  tall  and  dark,  and 
wore  a  large  cloak.  He  had  the  air  of  a  stranger,  and 
seemed,  by  a  certain  haggardness  in  his  look,  as  well  as  by 
the  dusty  soil  on  his  dress,  to  have  traveled  some  distance. 
He  eyed  Bumble  askance  ashe  entered,  but  scarcely  deigned 
to  nod  his  head  in  acknowledgment  of  his  salutation. 

Mr.  Bumble  had  quite  dignity  enough  for  two,  suppos- 
ing even  that  the  stranger  had  been  more  familiar  ;  so  he 
drank  his  gin-and-water  in  silence,  and  read  the  paper  with 
great  show  of  pomp  and  circumstance. 

It  so  happened,  however,  as  it  will  happen  very  often  when 
men  fall  into  company  under  such  circumstances,  that  Mr. 
Bumble  felt  every  now  and  then  a  powerful  inducement, 
which  he  could  not  resist,  to  steal  a  look  at  the  stranger  ; 
and  that  whenever  he  did  so,  he  withdrew  his  eyes  in  some 
confusion,  to  find  that  the  stranger  was  at  that  moment  steal- 
ing a  look  at  him.  Mr.  Bumble's  awkwardness  was  enhanced 
by  the  very  remarkable  expression  of  the  stranger's  eye, 
which  was  keen  and  bright,  but  shadowed  by  a  scowl  of  dis- 
trust and  suspicion,  unlike  any  thing  he  had  ever  observed 
before,  and  repulsive  to  behold. 


276  OLIVER  TWIST. 

When  they  had  encountered  each  other's  glance  several 
times  in  this  way,  the  stranger,  in  a  harsh,  deep  voice,  broke 
silence. 

"  Were  you  looking  for  me,"  he  said,  "  when  you  peered 
in  at  the  window  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,  unless  you're  Mr. — "  Here  Mr. 
Bumble  stopped  short ;  for  he  was  curious  to  know  the 
stranger's  name,  and  thought,  in  his  impatience,  he  might 
supply  the  blank. 

"  I  see  you  were  not,"  said  the  stranger,  an  expression  of 
quiet  sarcasm  playing  about  his  mouth  ;  "  or  you  would  have 
known  my  name.  You  don't  know  it.  I  would  recommend 
you  not  to  ask  for  it." 

"  I  meant  no  harm,  young  man,"  observed  Mr.  Bumble, 
majestically. 

"  And  have  done  none,"  said  the  stranger. 

Another  silence  succeeded  this  short  dialogue,  which  was 
again  broken  by  the  stranger. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before,  I  think  ?  "  said  he.  "You  were 
differently  dressed  at  the  time,  and  I  only  passed  you  in  the 
street,  but  I  should  know  you  again.  You  were  beadle  here 
once,  were  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  in  some  surprise — "  porochial 
beadle." 

"  Just  so,"  rejoined  the  other,  nodding  his  head.  "  It  was 
in  that  character  I  saw  you.     What  are  you  now  ?  " 

"  Master  of  the  work-house,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble,  slowly 
and  impressively,  to  check  any  undue  familiarity  the  stran- 
ger might  otherwise  assume.  "  Master  of  the  work-house, 
young  man  !  " 

"  You  have  the  same  eye  to  your  own  interest  that  you 
always  had,  I  doubt  not?  "resumed  the  stranger,  looking 
keenly  into  Mr.  Bumble's  eyes  as  he  raised  them  in  astonish- 
ment at  the  question.  "  Don't  scruple  to  answer  freely,  man. 
I  know  you  pretty  well,  you  see." 

"  I  suppose,  a  married  man,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  surveying  the  stranger  from  head 
to  foot  in  evident  perplexity,  "  is  not  more  averse  to  turning 
an  honest  penny  when  he  can,  than  a  single  one.  Porochial 
officers  are  not  so  well  paid  that  they  can  afford  to  refuse 
any  little  extra  fee,  when  it  comes  to  them  in  a  civil  and 
proper  manner." 

The  stranger  smiled,  and  nodded  his  head  again  as  much 


OLIVER  TWIST.  277 

as  to   say,  he   had   not   mistaken   his  man  ;  then  rang  the 
bell. 

"  Fill  this  glass  again,"  he  said,  handing  Mr.  Bumble's 
empty  tumbler  to  the  landlord.  "  Let  it  be  strong  and  hot. 
You  like  it  so,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  too  strong,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  with  a  delicate 
cough. 

"  You  understand  what  that  means,  landlord  ?  "  said  the 
stranger,  dryly. 

The  host  smiled,  disappeared,  and  shortly  afterward  re- 
turned with  a  steaming  jorum,  of  which  the  first  gulp  brought 
the  water  into  Mr.  Bumble's  eyes. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  said  the  stranger,  after  closing  the 
door  and  window.  "  I  came  down  to  this  place  to-day  to 
find  you  out  ;  and,  by  one  of  those  chances  which  the  devil 
throws  in  the  way  of  his  friends  sometimes,  you  walked  into 
the  very  room  I  was  sitting  in  while  you  were  uppermost  in 
my  mind.  I  want  some  information  from  you.  I  don't  ask 
you  to  give  it  for  nothing,  slight  as  it  is.  Put  up  that,  to 
begin  with." 

As  he  spoke,  he  pushed  a  couple  of  sovereigns  across  the 
table  to  his  companion  carefully,  as  though  unwilling  that 
the  chinking  of  money  should  be  heard  without.  When  Mr. 
Bumble  had  scrupulously  examined  the  coins,  to  see  that 
fhey  were  genuine,  and  had  put  them  up,  with  much  satis- 
faction, in  his  waistcoat-pocket,  he  went  on  : 

"  Carry  your  memory  back — let  me  see — twelve  years, 
last  winter." 

"  It's  a  long  time,"  said  Mr.  Bumble.  "  Very  good.  I've 
done  it." 

"  The  scene,  the  work-house." 

"Good!" 

"  And  the  time,  night." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  the  place,  the  crazy  hole,  wherever  it  was,  in  which 
miserable  drabs  brought  forth  the  life  and  health  so  often 
denied  to  themselves — gave  birth  to  puling  children  for  the 
parish  to  rear  ;  and  hid  their  shame,  rot  'em,  in  the  grave." 

"  The  lying-in  room,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  not 
quite  following  the  stranger's  excited  description. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger.     i(  A  boy  was  born  there." 

"  A  many  boys,"  observed  Mr.  Bumble,  shaking  his  head 
despondingly. 


278  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"A  murrain  on  the  young  devils  !"  cried  the  stranger; 
"  I  speak  of  one  ;  a  meek-looking,  pale-faced  boy,  who  was 
apprenticed  down  here  to  a  coffin-maker — I  wish  he  had 
made  his  coffin,  and  screwed  his  body  in  it — and  who  after- 
ward ran  away  to  London,  as  it  was  supposed." 

"  Why,  you  mean  Oliver  !  Young  Twist !  "  said  Mr. 
Bumble  ;  "  I  remember  him,  of  course.  There  wasn't  a 
obstinater  young  rascal — " 

"  It's  not  of  him  I  want  to  hear  ;  I've  heard  enough  of 
him,"  said  the  stranger,  stopping  Mr.  Bumble  in  the  outset 
of  a  tirade  on  the  subject  of  poor  Oliver's  vices.  "  It's  of  a 
woman  ;  the  hag  that  nursed  his  mother.      Where  is  she  ?" 

"  Where  is  she  ? "  said  Mr.  Bumble,  whom  the  gin-and- 
water  had  rendered  facetious.  "  It  would  be  hard  to  tell. 
There's  no  midwifery  there,  whichever  place  she's  gone  to  ; 
so  I  suppose  she's  out  of  employment,  any  way." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  "    demanded   the  stranger,  sternly. 

"  That  she  died  last  winter,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble. 

The  man  looked  fixedly  at  him  when  he  had  given  this 
information  ;  and  although  he  did  not  withdraw  his  eyes 
for  some  time  afterward,  his  gaze  gradually  became  vacant 
and  abstracted,  and  he  seemed  lost  in  thought.  For  some 
time  he  appeared  doubtful  whether  he  ought  to  be  relieved 
or  disappointed  by  the  intelligence  ;  but  at  length  he  breathed 
more  freely,  and,  withdrawing  his  eyes,  observed  that  it  was 
no  great  matter.     With  that  he  rose,  as  if  to  depart. 

But  Mr.  Bumble  was  cunning  enough  ;  and  he  at  once 
saw  that  an  opportunity  was  opened  for  the  lucrative  dis- 
posal of  some  secret  in  the  possession  of  his  better  half. 
He  well  remembered  the  night  of  old  Sally's  death,  which 
the  occurrences  of  that  day  had  given  him  good  reason  to 
recollect,  as  the  occasion  on  which  he  had  proposed  to  Mrs. 
Corney  ;  and  although  that  lady  had  never  confided  to  him 
the  disclosure  of  which  she  had  been  the  solitary  witness,  he 
had  heard  enough  to  know  that  it  related  to  something  that 
had  occurred  in  the  old  woman's  attendance,  as  work-house 
nurse,  upon  the  young  mother  of  Oliver  Twist.  Hastily 
calling  this  circumstance  to  mind,  he  informed  the  stranger, 
with  an  air  of  mystery,  that  one  woman  had  been  closeted 
with  the  old  harridan  shortly  before  she  died  ;  and  that  she 
could,  as  he  had  reason  to  believe,  throw  some  light  on  the 
subject  of  his  inquiry. 

"  How  can  I  find  her  ?  "    said  the  stranger,  thrown  off  his 


OLIVER  TWIST. 


279 


guard  ;  and  plainly  showing  that  all  his  fears  (whatever  they 
were)  were  aroused  afresh  by  the  intelligence. 

11  Only  through  me,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  When  ?  "  cried  the  stranger,  hastily. 

"  To-morrow,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  At  nine  in  the  evening,"  said  the  stranger,  producing  a 
scrap  of  paper,  and  writing  down  upon  it  an  obscure  address 
by  the  water-side,  in  characters  that  betrayed  his  agitation  ; 
"  at  nine  in  the  evening  bring  her  to  me  there.  I  needn't 
tell  you  to  be  secret.     It's  your  interest." 

With  these  words,  he  led  the  way  to  the  door,  after  stop- 
ping to  pay  for  the  liquor  that  had  been  drunk.  Shortly 
remarking  that  their  roads  were  different,  he  departed, 
without  more  ceremony  than  an  emphatic  repetition  of  the 
hour  of  appointment  for  the  following  night. 

On  glancing  at  the  address,  the  parochial  functionary 
observed  that  it  contained  no  name.  The  stranger  had  not 
gone  far;  so  he  made  after  him  to  ask  it. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  cried  the  man,  turning  quickly 
round,  as  Bumble  touched  him  on  the  arm.  "  Following 
me  ?  " 

"  Only  to  ask  a  question,"  said  the  other,  pointing  to  the 
scrap  of  paper.     "  What  name  am  I  to  ask  for  ?  " 

"  Monks  !  "  rejoined  the  man  ;  and  strode  hastily  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

CONTAINING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  WHAT  PASSED  BETWEEN  MR. 
AND  MRS.  BUMBLE  AND  MR.  MONKS  AT  THEIR  NOCTUR- 
NAL INTERVIEW. 

It  was  a  dull,  close,  overcast  summer  evening.  The 
clouds,  which  had  been  threatening  all  day,  spread  out  in  a 
dense  and  sluggish  mass  of  vapor,  already  yielded  large 
drops  of  rain,  and  seemed  to  presage  a  violent  thunder 
storm,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bumble,  turning  out  of  the  main 
street  of  the  town,  directed  their  course  toward  a  scattered 
little  colony  of  ruinous  houses,  distant  from  it  some  mile 
and  a  half,  or  thereabout,  and  erected  on  a  low  unwhole- 
some swamp  bordering  upon  the  river. 

They  were  both  wrapped  in  old  and  shabby  outer  gar- 


280  OLIVER  TWIST. 

ments,  which  might,  perhaps,  serve  the  double  purpose  of 
protecting  their  persons  from  the  rain  and  sheltering  them 
from  observation.  The  husband  carried  a  lantern,  from 
which,  however,  no  light  yet  shone,  and  trudged  on  a  few 
paces  in  front,  as  though — the  way  being  dirty— to  give  his 
wife  the  benefit  of  treading  in  his  heavy  foot-prints.  They 
went  on  in  profound  silence  ;  every  now  and  then  Mr. 
Bumble  relaxed  his  pace,  and  turned  his  head  as  if  to  make 
sure  that  his  helpmate  was  following  ;  then  discovering  that 
she  was  close  at  his  heels,  he  mended  his  rate  of  walking, 
and  proceeded,  at  a  considerable  increase  of  speed,  toward 
their  place  of  destination. 

This  was  far  from  being  a  place  of  doubtful  character  ; 
for  it  had  long  been  known  as  the  residence  of  none  but 
low  ruffians,  who,  under  various  pretenses  of  living  by  their 
labor,  subsisted  chiefly  on  plunder  and  crime.  It  was  a 
collection  of  mere  hovels,  some  hastily  built  with  loose 
bricks,  others  of  old  worm-eaten  ship-timber,  jumbled  to- 
gether without  any  attempt  at  order  or  arrangement,  and 
planted,  for  the  most  part,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  river's 
bank.  A  few  leaky  boats  drawn  up  on  the  mud,  and  made 
fast  to  the  dwarf  wall  which  skirted  it  ;  and  here  and  there 
an  oar  or  coil  of  rope,  appeared,  at  first,  to  indicate  that  the 
inhabitants  of  these  miserable  cottages  pursued  some  avoca- 
tion on  the  river  ;  but  a  glance  at  the  shattered  and  useless 
condition  of  the  articles  thus  displayed  would  have  led  a 
passer-by,  without  much  difficulty,  to  the  conjecture  that 
they  were  disposed  there  rather  for  the  preservation  of 
appearances  than  with  any  view  to  their  being  actually 
employed. 

In  the  heart  of  this  cluster  of  huts,  and  skirting  the  river, 
which  its  upper  stories  overhung,  stood  a  large  building, 
formerly  used  as  a  manufactory  of  some  kind.  It  had,  in 
its  day,  probably  furnished  employment  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  surrounding  tenements.  But  it  had  long  since  gone 
to  ruin.  The  rat,  the  worm,  and  the  action  of  the  damp, 
had  weakened  and  rotted  the  piles  on  which  it  stood  ;  and  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  building  had  already  sunk  down 
into  the  water  ;  while  the  remainder,  tottering  and  bending 
over  the  dark  stream,  seemed  to  wait  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity of  following  its  old  companion,  and  involving  itself 
in  the  same  fate. 

It  was  before  this  ruinous  building  that  the  worthy  couple 


OLIVER  TWIST.  281 

paused,  as  the  first  peal  of  distant  thunder  reverberated  in 
the  air,  and  the  rain  commenced  pouring  violently  down. 

"  The  place  should  be  somewhere  here,"  said  Bumble, 
consulting  a  scrap  of  paper  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Halloo  there  !  "  cried  a  voice  from  above. 

Following  the  sound,  Mr.  Bumble  raised  his  head,  and 
descried  a  man  looking  out  of  a  door,  breast-high,  on  the 
second  story. 

"  Stand  still  a  minute,"  cried  the  voice  ;  "  I'll  be  with 
you  directly."  With  which  the  head  disappeared,  and  the 
door  closed. 

"  Is  that  the  man  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bumble's  good  lady. 

Mr.  Bumble  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"Then  mind  what  I  told  you,"  said  the  matron  ;  "and 
be  careful  to  say  as  little  as  you  can,  or  you'll  betray  us  at 
once." 

Mr.  Bumble,  who  had  eyed  the  building  with  very  rueful 
looks,  was  apparently  about  to  express  some  doubts  relative 
to  the  advisability  of  proceeding  any  further  with  the  enter- 
prise just  then,  when  he  was  prevented  by  the  appearance 
of  Monks,  who  opened  a  small  door,  near  which  they  stood, 
and  beckoned  them  inward. 

"  Come  in  !  "  he  cried,  impatiently,  stamping  his  foot 
upon  the  ground.     "  Don't  keep  me  here  !  " 

The  woman,  who  had  hesitated  at  first,  walked  boldly  in, 
without  any  other  invitation.  Mr.  Bumble,  who  was  ashamed 
or  afraid  to  lag  behind,  followed  ;  obviously  very  ill  at  ease, 
and  with  scarcely  any  of  that  remarkable  dignity  which  was 
usually  his  chief  characteristic. 

"  What  the  devil  made  you  stand  lingering  there  in  the 
wet  ? "  said  Monks,  turning  round  and  addressing  Bumble, 
after  he  had  bolted  the  door  behind  them. 

"We — we  were  only  cooling  ourselves,"  stammered  Bum- 
ble, looking  apprehensively  about  him. 

"  Cooling  yourselves  !  "  retorted  Monks.  "  Not  all  the 
rain  that  ever  fell, 'or  ever  will  fall,  will  put  as  much  of  hell's 
fire  out  as  a  man  can  carry  about  with  him.  You  won't 
cool  yourselves  so  easily  ;  don't  think  it  !  " 

With  this  agreeable  speech,  Monks  turned  short  upon  the 
matron,  and  bent  his  gaze  upon  her,  till  even  she,  who  was 
not  easily  cowed,  was  fain  to  withdraw  her  eyes,  and  turn 
them  toward  the  ground. 

"  This  is  the  woman,  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Monks. 


282  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Hem  !  That  is  the  woman,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble,  mind- 
ful of  his  wife's  caution. 

"  You  think  women  never  can  keep  secrets,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  the  matron,  interposing,  and  returning,  as  she  spoke, 
the  searching  look  of  Monks. 

"  I  know  they  will  always  keep  one  till  it's  found  out," 
said  Monks. 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ?  "  asked  the  matron. 

"The  loss  of  their  own  good  name,"  replied  Monks. 
"  So,  by  the  same  rule,  if  a  woman's  a  party  to  a  secret  that 
might  hang  or  transport  her,  I'm  not  afraid  of  her  telling  it 
to  any  body  ;  not  I  !    Do  you  understand,  mistress  ? " 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  matron,  slightly  coloring  as  she  spoke. 

"Of  course  you  don't  !"  said  Monks.  "How  should 
you  ? " 

Bestowing  something  half-way  between  a  smile  and  a 
frown  upon  his  two  companions,  and  again  beckoning  them 
to  follow  him,  the  man  hastened  across  the  apartment, 
which  was  of  considerable  extent,  but  low  in  the  roof.  He 
was  preparing  to  ascend  a  steep  staircase,  or  rather  ladder, 
leading  to  another  floor  of  warehouses  above,  when  a  bright 
flash  of  lightning  streamed  down  the  aperture,  and  a  peal  of 
thunder  followed,  which  shook  the  crazy  building  to  its  center. 

"  Hear  it  !  "  he  cried,  shrinking  back.  "  Hear  it  !  Roll- 
ing and  crashing  on  as  if  it  echoed  through  a  thousand 
caverns  where  the  devils  were  hiding  from  it.  I  hate  the 
sound  ! " 

He  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments  ;  and  then,  remov- 
ing his  hands  suddenly  from  his  face,  showed,  to  the  un- 
speakable discomposure  of  Mr.  Bumble,  that  it  was  much 
distorted  and  discolored. 

"  These  fits  come  over  me,  now  and  then,"  said  Monks, 
observing  his  alarm  ;  "  and  thunder  sometimes  brings  them 
on.     Don't  mind  me  now  ;  it's  all  over  for  this  once." 

Thus  speaking,  he  led  the  way  up  the  ladder  ;  and  hastily 
closing  the  window-shutter  of  the  room  into  which  it  led, 
lowered  a  lantern  which  hung  at  the  end  of  a  rope  and  a 
pulley  passed  through  one  of  the  heavy  beams  in  the  ceil- 
ing ;  and  which  cast  a  dim  light  upon  an  old  table  and 
three  chairs  that  were  placed  beneath  it. 

"  Now,"  said  Monks,  when  they  had  all  three  seated  them- 
selves, the  sooner  we  come  to  our  business,  the  better  for 
all.     The  woman  knows  what  it  is,  does  she  ?" 


OLIVER  TWIST.  283 

The  question  was  addressed  to  Bumble ;  but  his  wife  an- 
ticipated the  reply,  by  intimating  that  she  was  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  it. 

"  He  is  right  in  saying  that  you  were  with  this  hag  the  night 
she  died  ;  and  that  she  told  you  something — " 

"  About  the  mother  of  the  boy  you  named,"  replied  the 
matron,  interrupting  him.     "Yes." 

"The  first  question  is,  of  what  nature  was  her  communica- 
tion ?"  said  Monks. 

"  That's  the  second,"  observed  the  woman,  with  much  de- 
liberation. "  The  first  is,  what  may  the  communication  be 
worth?  " 

"  Who  the  devil  can  tell  that,  without  knowing  of  what 
kind  it  is  ?  "  asked  Monks. 

"  Nobody  better  than  you,  I  am  persuaded,"  answered 
Mrs.  Bumble  ;  who  did  not  want  for  spirit,  as  her  yoke-fellow 
could  abundantly  testify. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Monks  significantly,  and  with  a  look  of 
eager  inquiry  ;  "  there  may  be  money's  worth  to  get,  eh  ?" 

"  Perhaps  there  may,"  was  the  composed  reply. 

"  Something  that  was  taken  from  her,"  said  Monks.  "  Some- 
thing that  she  wore.     Something  that — " 

"You  had  better  bid,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bumble.  "I  have 
heard  enough,  already,  to  assure  me  that  you  are  the  man  I 
ought  to  talk  to." 

Mr.  Bumble,  who  had  not  yet  been  admitted  by  his  better 
half  into  any  greater  share  of  the  secret  than  he  had  origi- 
nally possessed,  listened  to  this  dialogue  with  outstretched 
neck  and  distended  eyes  ;  which  he  directed  toward  his 
wife  and  Monks,  by  turns,  in  undisguised  astonishment  ;  in- 
creased, if  possible,  when  the  latter  sternly  demanded  what 
sum  was  required  for  the  disclosure. 

"  What's  it  worth  to  you  ? "  asked  the  woman,  as  collectedly 
as  before. 

"  It  may  be  nothing  ;  it  may  be  twenty  pounds,"  replied 
Monks.     %i  Speak  out,  and  let  me  know  which." 

"  Add  five  pounds  to  the  sum  you  have  named  ;  give  me 
five-and-twenty  pounds  in  gold,"  said  the  woman,  "  and  I'll 
teil  you  all  I  know.     Not  before." 

"  Five-and-twenty  pounds  !  "  exclaimed  Monks  drawing 
back. 

"  I  spoke  as  plainly  as  I  could,"  replied  Mrs.  Bumble.  "  It's 
not  a  large  sum,  either." 


284  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Not  a  large  sum  for  a  paltry  secret  that  may  be  nothing 
when  it's  told  !  "  cried  Monks,  impatiently  ;  "  and  which  has 
been  lying  dead  for  twelve  years  past  or  more  ! " 

"  Such  matters  keep  well,  and,  like  good  wine,  often  double 
their  value  in  course  of  time,"  answered  the  matron,  still 
preserving  the  resolute  indifference  she  had  assumed.  "  As 
to  lying  dead,  there  are  those  who  will  lie  dead  for  twelve 
thousand  years  to  come,  or  twelve  million,  for  any  thing  you 
or  I  know,  who  will  tell  strange  tales  at  last  !  " 

"What  if  I  pay  it  for  nothing?"  asked  Monks,  hesitating. 

"  You  can  easily  take  it  away  again,"  replied  the  matron. 
"I  am  but  a  woman,  alone  here,  and  unprotected." 

u  Not  alone,  my  dear,  nor  unprotected  neither,"  submitted 
Mr.  Bumble,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  fear:  '7am  here, 
my  dear.  And  besides,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing as  he  spoke,  "  Mr.  Monks  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to 
attempt  any  violence  on  porochial  persons.  Mr.  Monks  is 
aware  that  I  am  not  a  young  man,  my  dear,  and  also  that  I 
am  a  little  run  to  seed,  as  I  may  say  ;  but  he  has  heerd— I 
say  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Monks  has  heerd,  my  dear — that  I 
am  a  very  determined  officer,  with  very  uncommon  strength, 
if  I'm  once  roused.  I  only  want  a  little  rousing  ;  that's 
all." 

As  Mr.  Bumble  spoke,  he  made  a  melancholy  feint  of 
grasping  his  lantern  with  fierce  determination,  and  plainly 
showed,  by  the  alarmed  expression  of  every  feature,  that  he 
did  want  a  little  rousing,  and  not  a  little,  prior  to  making 
any  very  warlike  demonstration — unless,  indeed,  against  pau- 
pers, or  other  person  or  persons  trained  down  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

"  You  are  a  fool,"  said  Mrs.  Bumble,  in  reply  ;  "  and  had 
better  hold  your  tongue." 

V  He  had  better  have  cut  it  out,  before  he  came,  if  he  can't 
speak  in  a  lower  tone,"  said  Monks,  grimly.  "  So  !  He's  your 
husband,  eh  ?  " 

"He  my  husband!"  tittered  the  matron,  parrying  the 
question. 

"I  thought  as  much,  when  you  came  in,"  rejoined  Monks, 
marking  the  angry  glance  which  the  lady  darted  at  her 
spouse  as  she  spoke.  "  So  much  the  better  ;  I  have  less 
hesitation  in  dealing  with  two  people,  when  I  find  that  there's 
only  one  will  between  them.     I'm  in  earnest.     See  here  !  " 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  a  side-pocket ;  and  producing  d 


OLIVER  TWIST.  285 

canvas  bag,  told  out  twenty-five  sovereigns  on  the  table  and 
pushed  them  over  to  the  woman. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "gather  them  up  ;  and  when  this  cursed 
peal  of  thunder,  which  I  feel  is  coming  up  to  break  over  the 
house-top,  is  gone,  let's  hear  your  story." 

The  thunder,  which  seemed  in  fact  much  nearer,  and  to 
shiver  and  break  almost  over  their  heads,  having  subsided, 
Monks,  raising  his  face  from  the  table,  bent  forward  to  listen 
to  what  the  woman  should  say.  The  faces  of  the  three 
nearly  touched,  as  the  two  men  leaned  over  the  small  table 
in  their  eagerness  to  hear,  and  the  woman  also  leaned  for- 
ward to  render  her  whisper  audible.  The  sickly  rays  of  the 
suspended  lantern  falling  directly  upon  them,  aggravated  the 
paleness  and  anxiety  of  their  countenances,  which,  encircled 
by  the  deepest  gloom  and  darkness,  looked  ghastly  in  the 
extreme. 

"  When  this  woman,  that  we  called  old  Sally,  died,"  the 
matron  began,  "  she  and  I  were  alone." 

"  Was  there  no  one  by  ?  "  asked  Monks,  in  the  same  hol- 
low" whisper  ;  "  no  sick  wretch  or  idiot  in  some  other  bed  ? 
No  one  who  could  hear,  and  might,  by  'possibility,  under- 
stand ? " 

"  Not  a  soul,"  replied  the  woman  ;  "  we  were  alone.  / 
stood  alone  beside  the  body  when  death  came  over  it." 

"  Good  !  "  said  Monks,  regarding  her  attentively.  "  Go 
on." 

"  She  spoke  of  a  young  creature,"  resumed  the  matron, 
"  who  had  brought  a  child  into  the  world  some  years  before  ; 
not  merely  in  the  same  room,  but  in  the  same  bed,  in  which 
she  then  lay  dying." 

"Ay?"  said  Monks,  with  quivering  lip,  and  glancing  over 
his  shoulder.     "  Blood  !  How  things  come  about  !  " 

"  The  child  was  the  one  you  named  to  him  last  night," 
said  the  matron,  nodding  carelessly  toward  her  husband  ; 
"  the  mother  this  nurse  had  robbed." 

"  In  life  ?  "  asked  Monks. 

"  In  death,"  replied  the  woman,  with  something  like  a 
shudder.  "  She  stole  from  the  corpse,  when  it  had  hardly 
turned  to  one,  that  which  the  dead  mother  had  prayed  her, 
with  her  last  breath,  to  keep  for  the  infant's  sake." 

"  She  sold  it?"  cried  Monks,  with  desperate  eagerness; 
"did  she  sell  it  ?  Where  ?  When  ?  To  whom  ?  How  long  be- 
fore?" 


2S6  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  As  she  told  me,  with  great  difficulty,  that  she  had  done 
this,"  said  the  matron,  "she  fell  back  and  died." 

"Without  saying  more?"  cried  Monks,  in  a  voice  which, 
from  its  very  suppression,  seemed  only  the  more  furious. 
"It's  a  lie  !  I'll  not  be  played  with.  She  said  more.  I'll  tear 
the  life  out  of  you  both,  but  I'll  know  what  it  was." 

"  She  didn't  utter  another  word,"  said  the  woman  to  all 
appearance  unmoved  (as  Mr.  Bumble  was  very  far  from 
being)  by  the  strange  man's  violence-;  "  but  she  clutched  my 
gown  violently  with  one  hand,  which  was  partly  closed  ;  and 
when  I  saw  that  she  was  dead,  and  so  removed  the  hand  by 
force,  I  found  it  clasped  a  scrap  of  dirty  paper." 

"  Which  contained — "  interposed  Monks,  stretching  for- 
ward. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  woman  ;  "  it  was  a  pawnbroker's 
duplicate." 

"  For  what  ?  "  demanded  Monks. 

"  In  good  time  I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  judge 
that  she  had  kept  the  trinket  for  some  time,  in  the  hope  of 
turning  it  to  better  account,  and  then  had  pawned  it  ;  and 
had  saved  or  scraped  together  money  to  pay  the  pawnbroker's 
interest  year  by  year,  and  prevent  its  running  out  ;  so  that 
if  any  thing  came  of  it,  it  could  still  be  redeemed.  Nothing 
had  come  of  it  ;  and,  as  I  tell  you,  she  died  with  the  scrap 
of  paper,  all  worn  and  tattered,  in  her  hand.  The  time  was 
out  in  two  days  ;  I  thought  something  might  one  day  come 
of  it  too,  and  so  redeemed  the  pledge." 

"Where  is  it  now  ?"  asked  Monks,  quickly. 

"There"  replied  the  woman.  And,  as  if  glad  to  be  re- 
lieved of  it,  she  hastily  threw  upon  the  table  a  small  kid  bag 
scarcely  large  enough  for  a  French  watch,  which  Monks 
pouncing  upon,  tore  open  with  trembling  hands.  It  con- 
tained a  little  gold  locket,  in  which  were  two  locks  of  hair 
and  a  plain  gold  wedding-ring. 

"It  has  the  word  'Agnes'  engraved  on  the  inside,"  said 
the  woman.  "  There  is  a  blank  left  for  the  surname  ;  and 
then  follows  the  date,  which  is  within  a  year  before  the  child 
was  born.     I  found  out  that." 

"And  this  is  all?"  said  Monks,  after  a  close  and  eager 
scrutiny  of  the  contents  of  the  little  packet. 

"  All,"  replied  the  woman. 

Mr.  Bumble  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  he  were  glad  to  find 
that  the  story  was  over,  and  no  mention  made  of  taking  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  287 

five-and-twenty  pounds  back  again  ;  and  now  he  took  courage 
to  wipe  off  the  perspiration  which  had  been  trickling  over 
his  nose  unchecked  during  the  whole  of  the  previous 
dialogue. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  story  beyond  what  I  can  guess  at," 
said  his  wife,  addressing  Monks,  after  a  short  silence,  "and 
I  want  to  know  nothing  ;  for  it's  safer  not.  But  I  may  ask 
you  two  questions,  may  1  ? " 

"  You  may  ask,"  said  Monks,  with  some  show  of  surprise  ; 
"but  whether  I  answer  or  not  is  another  question." 

14 — Which  makes  three,"  observed  Mr.  Bumble,  essaying  a 
stroke  of  facetiousness. 

"  Is  that  what  you  expected  to  get  from  me  ?  "  demanded 
the  matron. 

"  It  is,"  replied  Monks.     '■  The  other  question  ? " 

"  What  you  propose  to  do  with  it  ?  Can  it  be  used  against 
me  ?  " 

"  Never,"  rejoined  Monks,  "  nor  against  me  either.  See 
here  !  But  don't  move  a  step  forward,  or  your  life  is  not 
worth  a  bulrush." 

With  these  words  he  suddenly  wheeled  the  table  aside,  and 
pulling  an  iron  ring  in  the  boarding,  threw  back  a  large  trap- 
door which  opened  close  at  Mr.  Bumble's  feet,  and  caused 
that  gentleman  to  retire  several  paces  backward  with  great 
precipitation. 

"Look  down,"  said  Monks,  lowering  the  lantern  into  the 
gulf.  "  Don't  fear  me.  I  could  have  let  you  down,  quietly 
enough,  when  you  were  seated  over  it,  if  that  had  been  my 
game." 

Thus  encouraged,  the  matron  drew  near  to  the  brink  ;  and 
even  Mr.  Bumble  himself,  impelled  by  curiosity,  ventured  to 
do  the  same.  The  turbid  water,  swollen  by  the  heavy  rain, 
was  rushing  rapidly  on  below ;  and  all  other  sounds  were 
lost  in  the  noise  of  its  plashing  and  eddying  against  the 
green  and  slimy  piles.  There  had  once  been  a  water-mill 
beneath  ;  the  tide,  foaming  and  chafing  round  the  few  rotten 
stakes  and  fragments  of  machinery  that  yet  remained,  seemed 
to  dart  onward,  with  a  new  impulse,  when  freed  from  the 
obstacles  which  had  unavailingly  attempted  to  stem  its  head- 
long course. 

If  you  flung  a  man's  body  down  there,  where  would  it  be 
to-morrow  morning  ?  "  said  Monks,  swinging  the  lantern  to 
and  fro  in  the  dark  well. 


288  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Twelve  miles  down  the  river,  and  cut  to  pieces  besides,'* 
replied  Bumble,  recoiling  at  the  thought. 

Monks  drew  the  little  packet  from  his  breast,  where  he 
had  hurriedly  thrust  it,  and  tying  it  to  a  leaden  weight,  which 
had  formed  a  part  of  some  pulley  and  was  lying  on  the  floor, 
dropped  it  into  the  stream.  It  fell  straight,  and  true  as  a 
die,  clove  the  water  with  a  scarcely  audible  splash,  and  was 
gone. 

The  three,  looking  into  each  other's  faces,  seemed  to 
breathe  more  freely. 

"  There  !  "  said  Monks,  closing  the  trap-door,  which  fell 
heavily  back  into  its  former  position.  <klf  the  sea  ever  gives 
up  its  dead,  as  books  say  it  will,  it  will  keep  its  gold  and 
silver  to  itself,  and  that  trash  among  it.  We  have  nothing 
more  to  say,  and  may  break  up  our  pleasant  party." 

"  By  all  means,"  observed  Mr.  Bumble,  with  great  alacrity. 

"You'll  keep  a  quiet  tongue  in  your  head,  will  you  ? " 
said  Monks,  with  a  threatening  look.  "  I'm  riot  afraid  of 
your  wife." 

"  You  may  depend  upon  me,  young  man,"  answered  Mr. 
Bumble,  bowing  himself  gradually  toward  the  ladder  with 
excessive  politeness.  "  On  every  body's  account,  young 
man  ;  on  my  own,  you  know,  Mr.  Monks." 

"  I  am  glad,  for  your  sake,  to  hear  it,"  remarked  Monks. 
"  Light  your  lantern,  and  get  away  from  here  as  fast  as  you 
can." 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  conversation  terminated  at  this 
point,  or  Mr.  Bumble,  who  had  bowed  himself  within  six 
inches  of  the  ladder,  would  infallibly  have  pitched  headlong 
into  the  room  below.  He  lighted  his  lantern  from  that 
which  Monks  had  detached  from  the  rope  and  now  carried 
in  bis  hand  ;  and,  making  no  effort  to  prolong  the  discourse, 
descended  in  silence,  followed  by  his  wife.  Monks  brought 
up  the  rear,  after  pausing  on  the  steps  to  satisfy  himself  that 
there  were  no  other  sounds  to  be  heard  than  the  beating  of 
the  rain  without,  and  the  rushing  of  the  water. 

They  traversed  the  lower  room  slowly,  and  with  caution, 
for  Monks  started  at  every  shadow  ;  and  Mr.  Bumble  hold- 
ing his  lantern  a  foot  above  the  ground,  walked  not  only 
with  remarkable  care,  but  with  a  marvelously  light  step  for  a 
gentleman  of  his  figure,  looking  nervously  about  him  for  hid- 
den trap  doors.  The  gate  at  which  they  had  entered  was 
softly  unfastened  and  opened  by  Monks  ;  merely  exchang- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  289 

ing  a  nod  with  their  mysterious  acquaintance,  the  married 
couple  emerged  into  the  wet  and  darkness  outside. 

They  were  no  sooner  gone  than  Monks,  who  appeared  to 
entertain  an  invincible  repugnance  to  being  left  alone, 
called  to  a  boy  who  had  been  hidden  somewhere  below.  Bid- 
ding him  go  first  and  bear  the  light,  he  returned  to  the 
chamber  he  had  just  quitted. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

INTRODUCES  SOME  RESPECTABLE  CHARACTERS  WITH  WHOM 
THE  READER  IS  ALREADY  ACQUAINTED,  AND  SHOWS  HOW 
MONKS  AND  THE  JEW  LAID  THEIR  WORTHY  HEADS 
TOGETHER. 

On  the  evening  following  f  at  upon  which  the  three 
worthies  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter  disposed  of  their  lit- 
tle matter  of  business  as  therein  narrated,  Mr.  William  Sikes, 
awakening  from  a  nap,  drowsily  growled  forth  an  inquiry 
what  time  of  night  it  was. 

The  room  in  which  Mr.  Sikes  propounded  this  question 
was  not  one  of  those  he  had  tenanted  previous  to  the  Chert- 
sey  expedition,  although  it  was  in  the  same  quarter  of  the 
town,  and  was  situated  at  no  great  distance  from  his  former 
lodgings.  It  was  not,  in  appearance,  so  desirable  a  habita- 
tion as  his  old  quarters,  being  a  mean  and  badly-furnished 
apartment,  of  very  limited  size,  lighted  only  by  one  small  win- 
dow in  the  shelving  roof,  and  abutting  on  a  close  and  dirty 
lane.  Nor  were  there  wanting  other  indications  of  the  good 
gentleman's  having  gone  down  in  the  world  of  late  ;  for  a  great 
scarcity  of  furniture,  and  total  absence  of  comfort,  together 
with  the  disappearance  of  all  such  small  movables  as  spare 
clothes  and  linen,  bespoke  a  state  of  extreme  poverty,  while 
the  meager  and  attenuated  condition  of  Mr.  Sikes  himself 
would  have  fully  confirmed  these  symptoms,  if  they  had 
stood  in  any  need  of  corroboration. 

The  house-breaker  was  lying  on  the  bed,  wrapped  in  his 
white  great-coat,  by  way  of  dressing-gown,  and  displaying  a 
set  of  features  in  no  degree  improved  by  the  cadaverous  hue 
of  illness,  and  the  addition  of  a  soiled  night-cap,  and  a  stiff 
black  beard  of  a  week's  growth.  The  dog  sat  at  the  bed-side. 


290  OLIVER  TWIST. 

now  eying  his  master  with  a  wistful  look,  and  now  pricking 
his  ears  and  uttering  a  low  growl  as  some  noise  in  the  street, 
or  in  the    lower   part  of  the  house,   attracted  his  attention. 

Seated  by  the  window,  busily  engaged  in  patching  an  old 
waistcoat  which  formed  a  portion  of  the  robber's  ordinary 
dress,  was  a  female,  so  pale  and  reduced  with  watching  and 
privation,  that  there  would  have  been  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  her  as  the  same  Nancy  who  has  already 
figured  in  this  tale,  but  for  the  voice  in  which  she  replied  to 
Mr.  Sikes's  question. 

"  Not  long  gone  seven,"  said  the  girl.  "  How  do  you  feel 
to-night,  Bill  ? " 

"  As  weak  as  water,"  replied  Mr.  Sikes,  with  an  impreca- 
tion on  his  eyes  and  limbs.  "  Here,  lend  us  a  hand,  and  let 
me  get  off  this  thundering  bed,  any  how." 

Illness  had  not  improved  Mr.  Sikes's  temper  ;  for,  as  the 
girl  raised  him  up  and  led  him  to  a  chair,  he  muttered  vari- 
ous curses  on  her  awkwardness,  and  struck  her. 

"  Whining,  are  you  ?  "  said  Sikes.  "  Come  !  don't  stand 
sniveling  there.  If  you  can't  do  anything  better  than  that, 
cut  off  altogether.     D'ye  hear  me  ? " 

"  I  hear  you,"  replied  the  girl,  turning  her  face  aside,  and 
forcing  a  laugh.  "  What  fancy  have  you  got  in  your  head 
now  ?" 

"  Oh  !  you've  thought  better  of  it,  have  you  ?  "  growled 
Sikes,  marking  the  tear  which  trembled  in  her  eye.  "All 
the  better  for  you,  you  have." 

"■Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you'd  be  hard  upon  me 
to-night,  Bill,"  said  the  girl,  laying  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  No  !  "  cried  Mr.  Sikes.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Such  a  number  of  nights,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  touch  of 
woman's  tenderness  which  communicated  something  like 
sweetness  of  tone  even  to  her  voice,  such  a  number  of 
nights  as  I've  been  patient  with  you,  nursing  and  caring  for 
you,  as  if  you'd  been  a  child  :  and  this  is  the  first  I've  seen 
you  like  yourself — you  wouldn't  have  served  me  as  you  did 
just  now,  if  you'd  thought  of  that,  would  you  ?  Come,  come  ; 
say  you  wouldn't." 

"Well,  then,"  rejoined  Mr.  Sikes,  "  I  wouldn't.  Why, 
damme,  now  the  girl's  whining  again  !  " 

"  It's  nothing,"  said  the  girl,  throwing  herself  into  a  chair. 

Don't  you  seem  to  mind  me.     It'll  soon  be  over." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  291 

"  What'll  be  over  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Sikes,  in  a  savage 
mice.  "What  foolery  are  you  up  to  now  again  ?  Get  up 
and  bustle  about,  and  don't  come  over  me  with  your  woman's 
nonsense." 

At  any  other  time  this  remonstrance,  and  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  delivered,  would  have  had  the  desired  effect  ; 
but  the  girl  being  really  weak  and  exhausted,  dropped  her 
head  over  the  back  of  a  chair  and  fainted,  before  Mr.  Sikes 
could  get  out  a  few  of  the  appropriate  oaths  with  which,  on 
similar  occasions,  he  was  accustomed  to  garnish  his  threats. 
Not  knowing  very  well  what  to  do,  in  this  uncommon  emer- 
gency— for  Miss  Nancy's  hysterics  were  usually  of  that 
violent  kind  which  the  patient  fights  and  struggles  out  of 
without  much  assistance — Mr.  Sikes  tried  a  little  blasphemy  ; 
and  finding  that  mode  of  treatment  ineffectual,  called  for 
assistance. 

"  What's  the  matter  here,  my  dear  ? "  said  Fagin,  looking 
in. 

"  Lend  a  hand  to  the  girl,  can't  you  ?  "  replied  Sikes, 
impatiently.     "  Don't  stand  chattering  and  grinning  at  me  ! '; 

With  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  Fagin  hastened  to  the 
girl's  assistance,  while  Mr.  John  Dawkins  (otherwise  the 
Artful  Dodger),  who  had  followed  his  venerable  friend  into 
the  room,  hastily  deposited  on  the  floor  a  bundle  with  which 
he  was  laden  ;  and,  snatching  a  bottle  from  the  grasp  of 
Master  Charles  Bates,  who  came  close  to  his  heels,  uncorked 
it  in  a  twinkling  with  his  teeth,  and  poured  a  portion  of  its 
contents  down  the  patient's  throat,  previously  taking  a  taste 
himself,  to  prevent  mistakes. 

"Give  her  a  whiff  of  fresh  air  with  the  bellows,  Charley," 
said  Mr.  Dawkins,  "and  you  slap  her  hands,  Fagin,  while 
Bill  undoes  the  petticuts." 

These  united  restoratives,  administered  with  great  energy 
— especially  that  department  consigned  to  Master  Bates, 
who  appeared  to  consider  his  share  in  the  proceedings  a 
piece  of  unexampled  pleasantry — were  not  long  in  producing 
the  desired  effect.  The  girl  gradually  recovered  her  senses  ; 
and,  staggering  to  a  chair  by  the  bedside,  hid  her  face  upon 
the  pillow,  leaving  Mr.  Sikes  to  confront  the  new-comers  in 
some  astonishment  at  their  unlooked-for  appearance. 

"  Why,  what  evil  wind  has  blowed  you  here  ?  "  he  asked 
Fagin. 

"  No  evil  wind  at  all,  my  dear,  for  evil  winds  blow  nobody 


292  OLIVER  TWIST. 

any  good  ;  and  I've  brought  something  good  with  me,  that 
you'll  be  glad  to  see.  Dodger,  my  dear,  open  the  bundle. 
and  give  Bill  the  little  trifles  that  we  spent  all  our  money  on 
this  morning." 

In  compliance  with  Mr.  Fagin's  request,  the  Artful  untiea 
his  bundle,  which  was  of  large  size  and  formed  of  an  old 
table-cloth,  and  handed  the  articles  it  contained,  one  by  one, 
to  Charley  Bates,  who  placed  them  on  the  table,  with  various 
encomiums  on  their  rarity  and  excellence. 

"  Sitch  a  rabbit-pie,  Bill  !  "  exclaimed  that  young  gentle- 
man, disclosing  to  view  a  huge  pasty  ;  "  sitch  delicate 
creeturs,  with  sitch  tender  limbs,  Bill,  that  the  wery  bones 
melt  in  your  mouth  and  there's  no  occasion  to  pick  'em  ; 
half  a  pound  of  seven-and-six-penny  green,  so  precious 
strong  that  if  you  mix  it  with  boiling  water,  it'll  go  nigh  to 
blow  the  lid  of  the  tea-pot  off  ;  a  pound  and  a  half  of  moist 
sugar  that  the  niggers  didn't  work  at  all  at,  afore  they  got  it 
up  to  sitch  a  pitch  of  goodness — oh  no  !  Two  half-quartern 
brans  ;  pound  of  best  fresh  ;  piece  of  double  Glo'ster ;  and, 
to  wind  up  all,  some  of  the  richest  sort  you  ever  lushed  !  " 

Uttering  this  last  panegyric,  Master  Bates  produced  from 
one  of  his  extensive  pockets  a  full-sized  wine-bottle,  care- 
fully corked,  while  Mr.  Dawkins,  at  the  same  instant,  poured 
out  a  wine-glassful  of  raw  spirits  from  the  bottle  which  he 
carried,  which  the  invalid  tossed  down  his  throat  without  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Fagin,  rubbing  his  hands  with  great  satisfac- 
tion.    "  You'll  do,  Bill  ;  you'll  do  now." 

"  Do  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sikes  ;  "  I  might  have  been  done 
for  twenty  times  afore  you'd  have  done  any  thing  to  help  me. 
What  do  you  mean  by  leaving  a  man  in  this  state  three 
weeks  and  more,  you  false-hearted  wagabond  ?  " 

"  Only  hear  him,  boys !  "  said  Fagin,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "  And  us  come  to  bring  him  all  these  beau-ti-fui 
things." 

"  The  things  is  well  enough  in  their  way,"  observed  Mr. 
Sikes,  a  little  soothed,  as  he  glanced  over  the  table  ;  "  but 
what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself,  why  you  should  leave 
me  here  down  in  the  mouth,  health,  blunt,  and  every  thing 
else,  and  take  no  more  notice  of  me  all  this  mortal  time  than 
if  I  was  that  'ere  dog  ? — Drive  him  down,  Charley  !  " 

"  I  never  see  such  a  jolly  dog  as  that !  "  cried  Master 
Bates,  doing  as  he  was  desired.     "  Smelling  the  grub  like  a 


OLIVER  TWIST.  293 

old  lady  a-going  to  market  !     He'd  make  his  fortun'  on  the 
stage,  that  dog  would,  and  rewive  the  drayma  besides." 

Hold  your  din  !  "  cried  Sikes,  as  the  dog  retreated  under 
the  bed,  still  growling  angrily.  "  What  have  you  got  to  say 
for  yourself,  you  withered  old  fence,  eh  ? " 

"  I  was  away  from  London  a  week  and  more,  my  dear,  on 
a  plant,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"And  what  about  the  other  fortnight  ?  "  demanded  Sikes. 
"  What  about  the  other  fortnight  that  you've  left  me  here, 
like  a  sick  rat  in  his  hole  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  Bill.  I  can't  go  into  a  long  explana- 
tion before  company  ;  but  I  couldn't  help  it,  upon  my 
honor." 

"  Upon  your  what  ?  "  growled  Sikes,  with  excessive  dis- 
gust. "  Here  !  Cut  me  off  a  piece  of  that  pie,  one  of  you 
boys,  to  take  the  taste  of  that  out  of  my  mouth,  or  it'll  choke 
me  dead." 

"  Don't  be  out  of  temper,  my  dear,"  urged  Fagin,  sub- 
missively.    "  I  have  never  forgot  you,  Bill,  never  once." 

"  No  !  I'll  pound  it  that  you  han't,"  replied  Sikes,  with  a 
bitter  grin.  "  You've  been  scheming  and  plotting  away 
every  hour  that  I  have  laid  shivering  and  burning  here  ;  and 
Bill  was  to  do  this,  and  Bill  was  to  do  that,  and  Bill  was  to 
do  it  all,  dirt  cheap,  as  soon  as  he  got  well,  and  was  quite 
poor  enough  for  your  work.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  girl,  I 
might  have  died." 

There  now,  Bill,"  remonstrated  Fagin,  eagerly  catching 
at  the  word.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  girl  !  Who  but 
poor  ould  Fagin  was  the  means  of  you  having  such  a  handy 
girl  about  you  ?  " 

"  He  says  true  enough  there,"  said  Nancy,  coming  hastily 
forward.     "  Let  him  be  ;  let  him  be." 

Nancy's  appearance  gave  a  new  turn  to  the  conversation  ; 
for  the  boys,  receiving  a  sly  wink  from  the  wary  old  Jew, 
began  to  ply  her  with  liquor,  of  which,  however,  she  took 
very  sparingly  ;  while  Fagin,  assuming  an  unusual  flow  of 
spirits,  gradually  brought  Mr.  Sikes  into  better  temper,  by 
affecting  to  regard  his  threats  as  a  little  pleasant  banter,  and, 
moreover,  by  laughing  very  heartily  at  one  or  two  rough 
jokes,  which,  after  repeated  applications  to  the  spirit-bottle, 
he  condescended  to  make. 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Sikes  ;  "  but  I  must  have  some 
blunt  from  you  to  night." 


294  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  I  haven't  a  piece  of  coin  about  me,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"  Then  you've  got  lots  at  home,"  retorted  Sikes  ;  "  and  I 
must  have  some  from  there." 

"  Lots  !  "  cried  Fagin,  holding  up  his  hands.  "  I  haven't  so 
much  as  would — " 

"  I  don't  know  how  much  you've  got,  and  I  dare  say  you 
hardly  know  yourself,  as  it  would  take  a  pretty  long  time  to 
count  it,"  said  Sikes,  "  but  I  must  have  some  to-night  ;  and 
that's  flat." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Fagin,  with  a  sigh,  "  I'll  send  the  Artful 
round  presently." 

"  You  won't  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  rejoined  Mr.  Sikes. 
"The  Artful's  a  deal  too  artful,  and  would  forget  to  come 
or  lose  his  way,  or  get  dodged  by  traps,  and  so  be  perwented 
or  any  thing  for  an  excuse,  if  you  put  him  up  to  it.  Nancy 
shall  go  to  the  ken  and  fetch  it,  to  make  all  sure  ;  and  I'll 
lie  down  and  havt  a  snooze  while  she's  gone." 

After  a  great  deal  of  haggling  and  squabbling,  Fagin  beat 
down  the  amount  of  the  required  advance  from  five  pounds 
to  three  pounds  four-and-sixpence,  protesting  with  many  sol- 
emn asseverations,  that  that  would  only  leave  him  eighteen- 
pence  to  keep  house  with  ;  Mr.  Sikes  sullenly  remarking 
that  if  he  couldn't  get  any  more  he  must  be  content  with  that, 
Nancy  prepared  to  accompany  him  home,  while  the  Dodger 
and  Master  Bates  put  the  eatables  in  the  cupboard.  The 
Jew  then,  taking  leave  of  his  affectionate  friend,  returned 
homeward,  attended  by  Nancy  and  the  boys  :  Mr.  Sikes, 
meanwhile,  flinging  himself  on  the  bed,  and  composing  himself 
to  sleep  away  the  time  until  the  young  lady's  return. 

In  due  course  they  arrived  at  Fagin's  abode,  where  they 
found  Toby  Crackit  and  Mr.  Chitling  intent  upon  their 
fifteenth  game  at  cribbage,  which  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
say  the  latter  gentleman  lost,  and  with  it,  his  fifteenth  and 
last  sixpence,  much  to  the  amusement  of  his  young  friends. 
Mr.  Crackit,  apparently  somewhat  ashamed  at  being  found 
relaxing  himself  with  a  gentleman  so  much  his  inferior  in 
station  and  mental  endowments,  yawned,  and  inquiring  after 
Sikes,  took  up  his  hat  to  go. 

"  Has  nobody  been,  Toby  ? "  asked  Fagin. 

"  Not  a  living  leg,"  answered  Mr.  Crackit,  pulling  up  his 
collar  ;  "  it's  been  as  dull  as  swipes.  You  ought  to  stand 
something  handsome,  Fagin,  to  recompense  me  for  keeping 
house  so  long.       Damme,  l'«a  as  flat  as  a  juryman  ;    and 


OLIVER  TWIST.  295 

should  have  gone  to  sleep  as  fast  as  Newgate,  if  I  hadn't  had 
the  good  natur'  to  amuse  the  youngster.  Horrid  dull,  I'm 
blessed  if  I  ain't  !  " 

With  these  and  other  ejaculations  of  the  same  kind,  Mr. 
Toby  Crackit  swept  up  his  winnings,  and  crammed  them 
into  his  waistcoat-pocket  with  a  haughty  air,  as  though  such 
small  pieces  of  silver  where  wholly  beneath  the  considera- 
tion of  a  man  of  his  figure  ;  this  done,  he  swaggered  out  of 
the  room  with  so  much  elegance  and  gentility,  that  Mr. 
Chitling,  bestowing  numerous  admiring  glances  on  his  legs 
and  boots  till  they  were  out  of  sight,  assured  the  company 
that  he  considered  his  acquaintance  cheap  at  fifteen  sixpence 
an  interview,  and  that  he  didn't  value  his  losses  the  snap  of 
his  little  finger'. 

"  Wot  a  rum  chap  you  are,  Tom  !  "  said  Master  Bates, 
highly  amused  by  this  declaration. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Chitling.  "  Am  I, 
Fagin  ? " 

■■  A  very  clever  fellow,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin,  patting  him 
on  the  shoulder,  and  winking  to  his  other  pupils. 

"  And  Mr.  Crackit  is  a  heavy  swell  ;  ain't  he,  Fagin  ? " 
asked  Tom. 

"  No  doubt  at  all  of  that,  my  dear." 

"  And  it  is  a  creditable  thing  to  have  his  acquaintance  ; 
ain't  it,  Fagin  ?  "  pursued  Tom. 

"  Very  much  so,  indeed,  my  dear.  They're  only  jealous, 
Tom,  because  he  won't  give  it  to  them," 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Tom,  triumphantly,  "  that's  where  it  is  !  He 
cleaned  me  out.  But  I  can  go  and  earn  some  more  when  I 
like  ;  can't  I,  Fagin  ?  " 

H  To  be  sure  you  can,  and  the  sooner  you  go  the  better, 
Tom  ;  so  make  up  your  loss  at  once,  and  don't  lose  any 
more  time.  Dodger  !  Charley  !  It's  time  you  were  on  the  lay. 
Come  !     It's  near  ten,  and  nothing  done  yet." 

In  obedience  to  this  hint,  the  boys,  nodding  to  Nancy, 
took  up  their  hats  and  left  the  room  ;  the  Dodger  and  his 
vivacious  friend  indulging,  as  they  went,  in  many  witticisms 
at  the  expense  0/  Mr.  Chitling,  in  whose  conduct,  it  is  but 
justice  to  say,  there  was  nothing  very  conspicuous  or  peculiar, 
inasmuch  as  there  area  great  number  of  spirited  young  bloods 
upon  town  who  pay  a  much  higher  price  than  Mr.  Chitling 
for  being  seen  in  good  society,  and  a  great  number  of  fine 
gentleman  (composing  the  good  society  aforesaid)  who  estab- 


296  OLIVER     TWIST. 

lish  their  reputation  upon  very  much  the  same  footing  as  flash 
Toby  Crackit. 

"  Now,"  said  Fagin,  when  they  had  left  the  room,  "  I'll  go 
and  get  you  that  cash,  Nancy.  This  is  only  the  key  of  a 
little  cupboard  where  I  keep  a  few  odd  things  the  boys  get, 
my  dear.  I  never  lock  up  my  money,  for  I've  got  none 
to  lock  up,  my  dear — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — none  to  lock  up.  It's 
a  poor  trade,  Nancy,  and  no  thanks  ;  but  I'm  fond  of  seeing 
the  young  people  about  me,  and  I  bear  it  all,  I  bear  it  all. 
Hush  !  "  he  said,  hastily  concealing  the  key  in  his  breast  ; 
"  who's  that  ?  Listen  !  " 

The  girl  who  was  sitting  at  the  table  with  her  arms  folded, 
appeared  in  no  way  interested  in  the  arrival,  or  to  care 
whether  the  person,  whoever  he  was,  came  of  went,  until  the 
murmur  of  a  man's  voice  reached  her  ears.  The  instant  she 
caught  the  sound,  she  tore  off  her  bonnet  and  shawl  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning,  and  thrust  them  under  the  table.  The 
Jew  turning  round  immediately  afterward,  she  muttered  a 
complaint  of  the  heat  in  a  tone  of  languor  that  contrasted 
very  remarkably  with  the  extreme  haste  and  violence  of  this 
action,  which,  however,  had  not  been  observed  by  Fagin,  who 
had  his  back  toward  her  at  the  time. 

"  Bah  !  "  he  whispered,  as  though  nettled  by  the  interrup- 
tion ;  "  it's  the  man  I  expected  before  ;  he's  coming  down 
stairs.  Not  a  word  about  the  money  while  he's  here,  Nance. 
He  won't  stop  long.     Not  ten  minutes,  my  dear." 

Laying  his  skinny  forefinger  on  his  lip,  the  Jew  carried  a 
candle  to  the  door,  as  a  man's  step  was  heard  upon  the  stairs 
without.  He  reached  it  at  the  same  moment  as  the  visitor, 
who,  coming  hastily  into  the  room,  was  close  upon  the  girl 
before  he  observed  her. 

It  was  Monks. 

"  Only  one  of  my  young  people,"  said  Fagin,  observing 
that  Monks  drew  back  on  beholding  a  stranger.  "  Don't 
move,  Nancy." 

The  girl  drew  closer  to  the  table,  and  glancing  at  Monks 
with  an  air  of  careless  levity,  withdrew  her  eyes  ;  but  ^  he 
turned  his  toward  Fagin,  she  stole  another  look,  so  keen 
and  searching,  and  full  of  purpose,  that  if  there  had  been  any 
by-stander  to  observe  the  change,  he  could  hardly  have  be- 
lieved the  two  looks  to  have  proceeded  from  the  same  per- 
son. 

"  Any  news  ? "  inquired  Fagin. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  297 

"Great" 

"  And — and — good  ? "  asked  Fagin,  hesitating  as  though 
he  feared  to  vex  the  other  man  by  being  too  sanguine. 

"  Not  bad,  any  way,"  replied  Monks  with  a  smile.  "  I  have 
been  prompt  enough  this  time.  Let  me  have  a  word  with 
you." 

The  girl  drew  closer  to  the  table,  and  made  no  offer  to 
leave  the  room,  although  she  could  see  that  Monks  was 
pointing  to  her.  The  Jew,  perhaps  fearing  she  might  say 
something  aloud  about  the  money  if  he  endeavored  to  get 
rid  of  her,  pointed  upward  and  took  Monks  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Not  that  infernal  hole  we  were  in  before,"  she  could 
hear  the  man  say  as  they  went  up  stairs.  Fagin  laughed  ; 
and  making  some  reply  which  did  not  reach  her,  seemed,  by 
the  creaking  of  the  boards,  to  lead  his  companion  to  the  sec- 
ond story. 

Before  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  had  ceased  to  echo 
through  the  house,  the  girl  had  slipped  off  her  shoes  ;  and 
drawing  her  gown  loosely  over  her  head,  and  muffling  her 
arms  in  it,  stood  at  the  door  listening  with  breathless  in- 
terest. The  moment  the  noise  ceased,  she  glided  from  the 
room,  ascended  the  stairs  with  incredible  softness  and  silence 
and  was  lost  in  the  gloom  above. 

The  room  remained  deserted  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or 
more  ;  the  girl  glided  back  with  the  same  unearthly  tread  ; 
and,  immediately  afterward,  the  two  men  were  heard  descend- 
ing Monks  went  at  once  into  the  street,  and  the  Jew 
crawled  up  stairs  again  for  the  money.  When  he  returned, 
the  girl  was  adjusting  her  shawl  and  bonnet,  as  if  preparing 
to  be  gone. 

"  Why,  Nance,"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  starting  back  as  he 
put  down  the  candle,  "how  pale  you  are!" 

"  Pale  !  "  echoed  the  girl,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands, 
as  if  to  look  steadily  at  him. 

"  Quite  horrible.  What  have  you  been  doing  to  your- 
self ? " 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of,  except  sitting  in  this  close  place 
for  I  don't  know  how  long  and  all,"  replied  the  girl,  care- 
lessly.    "Come  !  Let  me  get  back  ;  that's  a  dear." 

With  a  sigh  for  every  piece  of  money,  Fagin  told  the 
amount  into  her  hand.  They  parted  without  more  conver- 
sation, merely  exchanging  a  "  good  night." 


298  OLIVER  TWIST. 

When  the  girl  got  into  the  open  street  she  sat  down  upon 
a  doorstep,  and  seemed  for  a  few  moments  wholly  bewil- 
dered, and  unable  to  pursue  her  way.  Suddenly  she  arose  ; 
and  hurrying  on  in  a  direction  quite  opposite  to  that  in 
which  Sikes  was  awaiting  her  return,  quickened  her  pace, 
until  it  gradually  resolved  into  a  violent  run.  After  com- 
pletely exhausting  herself,  she  stopped  to  take  breath  ;  and, 
as  if  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  and  deploring  her  ina- 
bility to  do  something  she  was  bent  upon,  wrung  her  hands 
and  burst  into  tears. 

It  might  be  that  her  tears  relieved  her,  or  that  she  felt  the 
full  hopelessness  of  her  condition  ;  but  she  turned  back,  and 
hurrying  with  nearly  as  great  rapidity  in  the  contrary  direc- 
tion, partly  to  recover  lost  time,  and  partly  to  keep  pace 
with  the  violent  current  of  her  own  thoughts,  soon  reached 
the  dwelling  where  she  had  left  the  housebreaker. 

If  she  betrayed  any  agitation  when  she  presented  herself  to 
Mr.  Sikes,  he  did  not  observe  it ;  for  merely  inquiring  if  she 
had  brought  the  money,  and  receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  uttered  a  growl  of  satisfaction,  and  replacing  his 
head  upon  the  pillow,  resumed  the  slumbers  which  her  arri- 
val had  interrupted. 

It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  the  possession  of  money  oc- 
casioned him  so  much  employment  next  day  in  the  way  of 
eating  and  drinking,  and  withal  had  such  a  beneficial  effect 
in  soothing  down  the  asperities  of  his  temper,  that  he  had 
neither  time  nor  inclination  to  be  very  critical  upon  her  be- 
havior and  deportment.  That  she  had  all  the  abstracted 
and  nervous  manner  o^  one  who  is  on  the  eve  of  some  bold 
and  hazardous  step  which  it  has  required  no  common  struggle 
to  resolve  upon,  would  have  been  obvious  to  to  the  lynx-eyed 
Fagin,  who  would  most  probably  have  taken  the  alarm  at 
once;  but  Mr.  Sikes,  lacking  the  niceties  of  discrimination,  and 
being  troubled  with  no  more  subtle  misgivings  than  those 
which  resolve  themselves  into  a  dogged  roughness  of  behav- 
ior toward  everybody  ;  and  being,  furthermore,  in  an  unus- 
ually amiable  condition,  as  has  been  already  observed,  saw 
nothing  unusual  in  her  demeanor,  and,  indeed,  troubled  him- 
self so  little  about  her,  that,  had  her  agitation  been  far 
more  perceptible  than  it  was,  it  would  have  been  very  unlike- 
ly to  have  awakened  his  suspicions. 

As  that  day  closed  in,  the  girl's  excitement  increased  ; 
and,  when  night  came  on,  and  she  sat  by,  watching  until  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  299 

house-breaker  should  drink  himself  asleep,  there  was  an  un- 
usual paleness  in  her  cheek,  and  a  fire  in  her  eye,  that  even 
Sikes  observed  with  astonishment. 

Mr.  Sikes  being  weak  from  the  fever,  was  lying  in  bed, 
taking  hot  water  with  his  gin  to  render  it  less  inflammatory, 
and  had  pushed  his  glass  toward  Nancy  to  be  replenished 
for  the  third  or  fourth  time,  when  these  symptoms  first  struck 
him. 

"  Why,  burn  my  body  !  "  said  the  man,  raising  himself  on 
his  hands  as  he  stared  the  girl  in  the  face.  "  You  look  like 
a  corpse  come  to  life  again.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Matter  !  "  replied  the  girl.  "  Nothing.  What  do  you 
look  at  me  so  hard  for  ?  " 

"  What  foolery  is  this  ?  "  demanded  Sikes,  grasping  her  by 
the  arm  and  shaking  her  roughly.  "What  is  it  ?  What  do 
you  mean  ?  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Of  many  things,  Bill,"  replied  the  girl,  shivering,  and,  as 
she  did  so,  pressing  her  hands  upon  her  eves.  "  But,  Lord  ! 
What  odds  in  that  ?  " 

The  tone  of  forced  gayety  in  which  the  last  words  were 
spoken  seemed  to  produce  a  deeper  impression  on  Sikes  than 
the  wild  and  rigid  look  which  had  preceded  them. 

"  I  tell  you  wot  it  is,"  said  Sikes  ;  "  if  you  haven't  caught 
the  fever,  and  got  it  comin'  on  now,  there's  something  more 
than  usual  in  the  wind,  and  something  dangerous  too.  You're 
not  a-going  to —  No,  damme!  you  wouldn't  do  that  !  " 

"  Do  what  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  There  ain't,"  said  Sikes,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her,  and 
muttering  the  words  to  himself  ;  "there  ain't  a  stauncher- 
hearted  gal  going,  or  I'd  have  cut  her  throat  three  months 
ago.     She's  got  the  fever  coming  on  ;  that's  it." 

Fortifying  himself  with  this  assurance,  Sikes  drained  the 
glass  to  the  bottom,  and  then,  with  many  grumbling  oaths, 
called  for  his  physic.  The  girl  jumped  up  with  great  alac- 
rity, poured  it  quickly  out,  but  with  her  back  toward  him, 
and  held  the  vessel  to  his  lips,  while  he  drank  off  the  con- 
tents. 

"Now,"  said  the  robber,  "come  and  sit  aside  of  me,  and 
put  on  your  own  face,  or  I'll  alter  it  so  that  you  won't  know 
it  again  when  you  do  want  it." 

The  girl  obeyed.  Sikes  locking  her  hand  in  his,  fell  back 
upon  the  pillow,  turning  nis  eyes  upon  her  face.  They 
closed,  opened  again,  closed  once  more,  again  opened.     He 


300  OLIVER  TWIST. 

shifted  his  position  restlessly,  and,  after  dozing  again  and 
again  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  as  often  springing  up 
with  a  look  of  terror  and  gazing  vacantly  about  him,  was 
suddenly  stricken,  as  it  were,  while  in  the  very  attitude  of 
rising,  into  a  deep  and  heavy  sleep.  The  grasp  of  his  hand 
relaxed,  the  upraised  arm  fell  languidly  by  his  side,  and  he 
lay  like  one  in  a  profound  trance. 

"  The  laudanum  has  taken  effect  at  last,"  murmured  the 
girl,  as  she  rose  from  the  bedside.  "  I  may  be  too  late,  even 
now." 

She  hastily  dressed  herself  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  look- 
ing fearfully  round  from  time  to  time,  as  if,  despite  the  sleep- 
ing draught,  she  expected  every  moment  to  feel  the  pressure 
of  'Sikes's  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder  ;  then,  stooping 
softly  over  the  bed,  she  kissed  the  robber's  lips,  and  then 
opening  and  closing  the  room-door  with  noiseless  touch,  hur- 
ried from  the  house. 

A  watchman  was  crying  half-past  nine,  down  a  dark  pas- 
sage through  which  she  had  to  pass  in  gaining  the  main 
thoroughfare. 

"  Has  it  long  gone  the  half  hour  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  It'll  strike  the  hour  in  another  quarter,"  said  the  man, 
raising  his  lantern  to  her  face. 

"  And  I  can  not  get  there  in  less  than  an  hour  or  more," 
muttered  Nancy,  brushing  swiftly  past  him,  and  gliding  rap- 
idly down  the  street. 

Many  of  the  shops  were  already  closing  in  the  back  lanes 
and  avenues  through  which  she  tracked  her  way  in  making 
from  Spitalfields  toward  the  West-End  of  London.  The 
clock  struck  ten,  increasing  her  impatience.  She  tore  along 
the  narrow  pavement,  elbowing  the  passengers  from  side  to 
side,  and  darting  almost  under  the  horses'  heads  ;  crossed 
crowded  streets,  where  clusters  of  persons  were  eagerly  watch- 
ing their  opportunity  to  do  the  like. 

"The  woman  is  mad  !"  said  the  people,  turning  to  look 
after  her  as  she  rushed  away. 

When  she  reached  the  more  wealthy  quarter  of  the  town, 
the  streets  were  comparatively  deserted  ;  and  here  her  head- 
long progress  excited  a  still  greater  curiosity  in  the  stragglers 
whom  she  hurried  past.  Some  quickened  their  pace  behind, 
as  though  to  see  whither  she  was  hastening  at  such  an  unus- 
ual rate,  and  a  few  made  head  upon  her,  and  looked  back, 
surprised  at  her  undiminished  speed  ;  but  they  fell  off  one 


OLIVER  TWIST.  301 

by  one,  and  when  she  neared  her  place  of  destination  she 
was  alone. 

It  was  a  family  hotel  in  a  quiet  but  handsome  street  near 
Hyde  Park.  As  the  brilliant  light  of  the  lamp  which  burned 
before  its  door  guided  her  to  the  spot,  the  clock  struck 
eleven.  She  had  loitered  for  a  few  paces  as  though  irreso- 
lute, and  making  up  her  mind  to  advance,  but  the  sound  de- 
termined her,  and  she  stepped  into  the  hall.  The  porter's 
seat  was  vacant.  She  looked  round  with  an  air  of  incerti- 
tude, and  advanced  toward  the  stairs. 

"  Now,  young  woman  !  "  said  a  smartly-dressed  female, 
looking  out  from  a  door  behind  her,  "who  do  you  want 
here  ?  " 

"  A  lady  who  is  stopping  in  this  house,"  answered  the 
girl. 

"  A  lady  !  "  was  the  reply,  accompanied  with  a  scornful 
look.     "  What  lady  ?  " 

"  Miss  Maylie,"  said  Nancy. 

The  young  woman,  who  had  by  this  time  noted  her  ap- 
pearance, replied  only  by  a  look  of  virtuous  disdain,  and 
summoned  a  man  to  answer  her.  To  him  Nancy  repeated 
her  request. 

"  What  name  am  I  to  say  ?  "  asked  the  waiter. 

"  It's  of  no  use  saying  any,"  replied  Nancy. 

"  Nor  business  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"  No,  nor  that  neither,"  rejoined  the  girl.  "  I  must  see  the 
lady." 

"  Come  ! '  said  the  man,  pushing  her  toward  the  door. 
"  None  of  this.     Take  yourself  off." 

"  I  shall  be  carried  out,  if  I  go  !  "  said  the  girl,  violently  ; 
"  and  I  can  make  that  a  job  that  two  of  you  won't  like  to 
do.  Isn't  there  any  body  here,"  she  said,  looking  round, 
"  that  will  see  a  simple  message  carried  for  a  poor  wretch 
like  me  ?  " 

This  appeal  produced  an  effect  on  a  good-tempered-faced 
man-cook,  who  with  some  other  of  the  servants  was  looking 
on,  and  who  stepped  forward  to  interfere. 

"  Take  it  up  for  her,  Joe,  can't  you  ? "  said  this  person. 

"  What's  the  good  ?  "  replied  the  man.  "  You  don't  sup- 
pose the  young  lady  will  see  such  as  her,  do  you  ?  " 

This  allusion  to  Nancy's  doubtful  character  raised  a  vast 
quantity  of  chaste  wrath  in  the  bosoms  of  four  house-maids, 
who  remarked  with  great  fervor  that  the  creature  was  a  dis- 


302  OLIVER  TWIST. 

grace  to  her  sex,  and  strongly  advocated  her  being  thrown 
'ruthlessly  into  the  kennel. 

"  Do  what  you  like  with  me,"  said  the  girl,  turning  to  the 
men  again  ;  "but  do  what  I  ask  you  first,  and  I  ask  you  to 
give  this  message  for  God  Almighty's  sake." 

The  soft-hearted  cook  added  his  intercession,  and  the  re- 
sult was  that  the  man  who  had  first  appeared  undertook  its 
delivery. 

"What's  it  to  be  ?  "  said  the  man,  with  one  foot  on  the 
stairs. 

;'  That  a  young  woman  earnestly  asks  to  speak  to  Miss 
Maylie  alone,"  said  Nancy  ;  "  and  that  if  the  lady  will  only 
hear  the  first  word  she  has  to  say,  she  will  know  whether  to 
hear  her  business,  or  to  have  her  turned  out-of-doors  as  an 
impostor." 

I  say,"  said  the  man,  "  you're  coming  it  strong." 

"  You  give  the  message,"  said  the  girl,  firmly,  "  and  let  me 
hear  the  answer." 

The  man  ran  up  stairs.  Nancy  remained,  pale  and  almost 
breathless,  listening  with  quivering  lip  to  the  very  audible 
expressions  of  scorn,  of  which  the  chaste  house-maids  were 
very  prolific,  and  of  which  they  became  still  more  so  when 
the  man  returned  and  said  the  young  woman  was  to  walk  up 
stairs. 

"  It's  no  good  being  proper  in  this  world,"  said  the  first 
house-maid. 

"  Brass  can  do  better  than  the  gold  what  has  stood  the 
fire,"  said  the  second. 

The  third  contented  herself  with  wondering  "  what  ladies 
was  made  of  ;  "  and  the  fourth  took  the  first  in  a  quartette 
of  "  Shameful  !  "  with  which  the  Dianas  concluded. 

Regardless  of  all  this,  for  she  had  weightier  matters  at 
heart,  Nancy  followed  the  man,  with  trembling  limbs,  to  a 
small  antechamber  lighted  by  a  lamp  from  the  ceiling.  Here 
he  left  her,  and  retired. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  303 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A    STRANGE    INTERVIEW,    WHICH    IS    A    SEQUEL  TO  THE  LAST 
CHAPTER. 

The  girl's  life  had  been  squandered  in  the  streets,  and 
among  the  most  noisome  of  the  stews  and  dens  of  London, 
but  there  was  something  of  the  woman's  original  nature  left 
in  her  still  ;  and  when  she  heard  a  light  step  approaching 
the  door  opposite  to  that  by  which  she  had  entered,  and 
thought  of  the  wide  contrast  which  the  small  room  would  in 
another  moment  contain,  she  felt  burdened  with  the  sense 
of  her  own  deep  shame,  and  shrunk  as  though  she  could 
scarcely  bear  the  presence  of  her  with  whom  she  had  sought 
this  interview. 

But  struggling  with  these  better  feelings  was  pride — the 
vice  of  the  lowest  and  most  debased  creatures  no  less  than 
of  the  high  and  self-assured.  The  miserable  companion  of 
thieves  and  ruffians,  the  fallen  outcast  of  low  haunts,  the  as- 
sociate of  the  scourings  of  the  jails  and  hulks,  living  within 
the  shadow  of  the  gallows  itself — even  this  degraded  being 
felt  too  proud  to  betray  a  feeble  gleam  of  the  womanly  feel- 
ing which  she  thought  a  weakness,  but  which  alone  connected 
her  with  that  humanity  of  which  her  wasting  life  had  oblit- 
erated so  many,  many  traces  when  a  very  child. 

She  raised  her  eyes  sufficiently  to  observe  that  the  figure 
which  presented  itself  was  that  of  a  slight  and  beautiful 
girl  ;  then,  bending  them  on  the  ground,  she  tossed  her 
head  with  affected  carelessness  as  she  said  : 

"  It's  a  hard  matter  to  get  to  see  you,  lady.  If  I  had 
taken  offense  and  gone  away,  as  many  would  have  done, 
you'd  have  been  sorry  for  it  one  day,  and  not  without  rea- 
son either." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  if  any  one  has  behaved  harshly  to  you," 
replied  Rose.  "  Do  not  think  of  that.  Tell  me  why  you 
wished  to  see  me.     I  am  the  person  you  inquired  for." 

The  kind  tone  of  this  answer,  the  sweet  voice,  the  gen- 
tle manner,  the  absence  of  any  accent  of  haughtiness  or  dis- 
pleasure, took  the  girl  completely  by  surprise,  and  she 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  lady  !  lady  !  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands  passion- 


304  OLIVER  TWIST. 

ately  before  her  face,  "  if  there  was  more  like  you,  there 
would  be  fewer  like  me  ;  there  would — there  would  !  " 

"Sit  down,"  said  Rose,  earnestly.  "  If  you  are  in  pov- 
erty or  affliction,  I  shall  be  truly  glad  to  relieve  you,  if  I 
can — I  shall,  indeed.     Sit  down." 

"  Let  me  stand,  lady,"  said  the  girl,  still  weeping,  "  and 
do  not  speak  to  me  so  kindly  till  you  know  me  better.  It 
is  growing  late.     Is — is — that  door  shut  ?  " 

.  Yes,"  said  Rose,  recoiling  a  few  steps,  as  if  to  be  nearer 
assistance  in  case  she  should  require  it.     "  Why." 

"  Because,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  am  about  to  put  my  life  and 
the  lives  of  others,  in  your  hands.  I  am  the  girl  that 
dragged  little  Oliver  back  to  old  Fagin's  on  the  night  he 
went  out  from  the  house  in  Pentonville." 

"  You  !  "  said  Rose  Maylie. 

"I,  lady  !  "  replied  the  girl.  "  I  am  the  infamous  crea- 
ture you  have  heard  of,  that  lives  among  the  thieves,  and 
that  never,  from  the  first  moment  I  can  recollect  my  eyes 
and  senses  opening  on  London  streets,  have  known  any  bet- 
ter life,  or  kinder  words  than  they  have  given  me,  so  help 
me  God  !  Do  not  mind  shrinking  openly  from  me,  lady. 
I  am  younger  than  you  would  think,  to  look  at  me,  but  1 
am  well  used  to  it.  The  poorest  women  fall  back  as  I 
make  my  way  along  the  crowded  pavement." 

"  What  dreadful  things  are  these  !  "  said  Rose,  involun- 
tarily falling  from  her  strange  companion. 

"  Thank  Lleaven  upon  your  knees,  dear  lady,"  cried  the 
girl,  "  that  you  had  friends  to  care  for  and  keep  you  in 
your  childhood,  and  that  you  were  never  in  the  midst  of 
cold  and  hunger,  and  riot  and  drunkenness,  and — and — 
something  worse  than  all — as  I  have  been  from  my  cradle. 
I  may  use  the  word,  for  the  alley  and  the  gutter  were  mine, 
as  they  will  be  my  death-bed." 

"  I  pity  you  !  "  said  Rose,  in  a  broken  voice.  "  It  wrings 
my  heart  to  hear  'you  I  " 

"  Heaven  bless  you  for  your  goodness  ! "  rejoined  the 
girl.  "  If  you  knew  what  I  am  sometimes,  you  would  pity 
me,  indeed.  But  I  have  stolen  away  from  those  who  would 
surely  murder  me  if  they  knew  I  had  been  here  to  tell  you 
what  I  have  overheard.  Do  you  know  a  man  named 
Monks  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Rose. 

"  He  knows  you,"  replied  the  girl ;  *  and  knew  you  were 


OLIVER  TWIST.  305 

here,  for  it  was  by  hearing  him  tell  the  place  that  I  found 
you  out." 

"I  never  heard  the  name,"  said  Rose. 

"  Then  he  goes  by  some  other  among  us,"  rejoined  the 
girl,  "  which  I  more  than  thought  before.  Some  time  ago, 
and  soon  after  Oliver  was  put  into  your  house  on  the 
night  of  the  robbery,  I — suspecting  this  man — listened  to 
a  conversation  held  between  him  and  Fagin  in  the  dark.  I 
found  out,  from  what  I  heard,  that  Monks — the  man  I 
asked  you  about,  you  know — " 

"Yes,"  said  Rose,  "I  understand." 

" — That  Monks,"  pursued  the  girl,  "had  seen  him  ac- 
cidentally with  two  of  our  boys  on  the  day  we  first  lost 
him,  and  had  known  him  directly  to  be  the  same  child  that 
he  was  watching  for,  though  I  couldn't  make  out  why.  A 
bargain  was  struck  with  Fagin,  that  if  Oliver  was  got  back 
he  should  have  a  certain  sum  ;  and  he  was  to  have  more 
for  making  him  a  thief,  which  this  Monks  wanted  for  some 
purpose  of  his  own." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  He  caught  sight  of  my  shadow  on  the  wall  as  I  listened 
in  the  hope  of  finding  out,"  said  the  girl ;  "  and  there  are 
not  many  people  besides  me  that  could  have  got  out  of  their 
way  in  time  to  escape  discovery.  But  I  did  ;  and  I  saw 
him  no  more  till  last  night." 

"  And  what  occurred  then  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  lady.  Last  night  he  came  again.  Again 
they  went  up  stairs,  and  I,  wrapping  myself  up  so  that  my 
shadow  should  not  betray  me,  again  listened  at  the  door. 
The  first  words  I  heard  Monks  say  were  these  :  '  So  the 
only  proofs  of  the  boy's  identity  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  and  the  old  hag  that  received  them  from  the  mother 
is  rotting  in  her  coffin.'  They  laughed,  and  talked  of  his 
success  in  doing  this;  and  Monks,  talking  on. about  the 
boy,  and  getting  very  wild,  said  trrat  though  he  had  got 
the  young  devil's  money  safely  now  he'd  rather  have  had 
it  the  other  way  ;  for  what  a  game  it  would  have  been  to 
have  brought  down  the  boast  of  the  father's  will  by  driv- 
ing him  through  every  jail  in  town,  and  then  hauling  him 
up  for  some  capital  felony  which  Fagin  could  easily,  man- 
age, after  having  made  a  good  profit  of  him  besides." 

14  What  is  all  this  ?  "  said  Rose. 

"The   truth,  lady,   though  it   comes  from   my  lips,"  re- 


3o6  OLIVER  TWIST. 

plied  the  girl.  "  Then,  he  said,  with  oaths  common  enough 
in  my  ears,  but  strange  to  yours,  that  if  he  could  gratify  his 
hatred  by  taking  the  boy's  life  without  bringing  his  own 
neck  in  danger,  he  would  ;  but,  as  he  couldn't,  he'd  be  up- 
on the  watch  to  meet  him  at  every  turn  in  life  ;  and  if  he 
took  advantage  of  his  birth  and  history,  he  might  harm  him 
yet.  '  In  short,  Fagin,'  he  says,  (  Jew  as  you  are,  you  never 
laid  such  snares  as  I'll  contrive  for  my  young  brother  Oli- 
ver." 

"  His  brother  !  "  exclaimed  Rose. 

"  Those  were  his  words,"  said  Nancy,  glancing  uneasily 
round,  as  she  had  scarcely  ceased  to  do  since  she  began  to 
speak,  for  a  vision  of  Sikes  haunted  her  perpetually.  "  And 
more.  When  he  spoke  of  you  and  the  other  lady,  and  said 
it  seemed  contrived  by  Heaven,  or  the  devil,  against  him, 
that  Oliver  should  come  into  your  hands,  he-  laughed,  and 
said  there  was  some  comfort  in  that  too,  for  how  many 
thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds  would  you 
not  give,  if  you  had  them,  to  know  who  your  two-legged 
spaniel  was." 

"  You  do  not  mean,"  said  Rose,  turning  very  pale,  "  to 
tell  me  that  this  was  said  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  He  spoke  in  hard  and  angry  earnest,  if  a  man  ever  did," 
replied  the  girl,  shaking  her  head.  "  He  is  an  earnest  man 
when  his  hatred  is  up.  I  know  many  who  do  worse  things; 
but  I'd  rather  listen  to  them  all  a  dozen  times  than  to  that 
Monks  once.  It  is  growing  late,  and  I  have  to  reach  home 
without  suspicion  of  having  been  on  such  an  errand  as  this. 
I  must  get  back  quickly." 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?  "  said  Rose.  "  To  what  use  can 
I  turn  this  communication  without  you  ?  Back  !  Why  do 
you  wish  to  return  to  companions  you  paint  in  such  terrible 
colors?  If  you  repeat  this  information  to  a  gentleman 
whom  I  can  summon  in  an  instant  from  the  next  room,  you 
can  be  consigned  to  some  place  of  safety  without  half  an 
hour's  delay." 

"  I  wish  to  go  back,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  must  go  back,  be- 
cause— how  can  I  tell  such  things  to  an  innocent  lady  like 
you  ? — because  among  the  men  I  have  told  you  of  there  is 
one — the  most  desperate  among  them  all — that  I  can't 
leave  ;  no,  not  even  to  be  saved  from  the  life  I  am  leading 
now." 

"  Your    having  interfered  in   this    dear  boy's  behalf  be- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  307 

fore,"  said  Rose  ;  "  your  coming  here,  at  so  great  a  risk,  to 
tell  me  what  you  have  heard  ;  your  manner,  which  convin- 
ces me  of  the  truth  of  what  you  say  ;  your  evident  con- 
trition, and  sense  of  shame  ;  all  lead  me  to  believe  that  you 
might  be  yet  reclaimed.  Oh  !  "  said  the  earnest  girl,  fold- 
ing her  hands  as  the  tears  coursed  down  her  face,  "  do  not 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  entreaties  of  one  of  your  own  sex  ; 
the  first — the  first,  I  do  believe,  who  ever  appealed  to  you 
in  the  voice  of  pity  and  compassion.  Do  hear  my  words, 
and  let  me  save  you  yet  for  better  things." 

"  Lady,"  cried  the  girl,  sinking  on  her  knees,  "  dear, 
sweet,  angel  lady,  you  are  the  first  that  ever  blessed  me  with 
such  words  as  these  ;  and  if  I  had  heard  them  years  ago, 
they  might  have  turned  me  from  a  life  of  sin  and  sorrow  ; 
but  it  is  too  late,  it  is  too  late  !  " 

"  It  is  never  100  late,"  said  Rose,  "  for  penitence  and 
atonement." 

"  It  is  !  "  cried  the  girl,  writhing  in  the  agony  of  her  mind  ; 
"I  can  not  leave  him  now  !     I  could  not  be  his  death." 

"  Why  should  you  be  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Nothing  could  save  him,"  cried  the  girl.  "  If  I  told 
others  what  I  have  told  you,  and  led  to  their  being  taken, 
he  would  be  sure  to  die.  He  is  the  boldest,  and  has  been  so 
cruel  !  " 

"Is  it  possible,"  cried  Rose,  "  that  for  such  a  man  as  this 
you  can  resign  every  future  hope,  and  the  certainty  of  im- 
mediate rescue  ?     It  is  madness." 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  answered  the  girl  ;  "I  only 
know  that  it  is  so,  and  not  with  me  alone,  but  with  hundreds 
of  others  as  bad  and  wretched  as  myself.  I  must  go  back. 
Whether  it  is  God's  wrath  for  the  wrong  I  have  done,  I  do 
not  know  ;  but  I  am  drawn  back  to  him,  through  every 
suffering  and  ill-usage  ;  and  I  should  be,  I  believe,  if  I  knew 
that  I  was  to  die  by  his  hand  at  last." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  said  Rose.  "  I  should  not  let  you 
depart  from  me  thus." 

"You  should,  lady,  and  I  know  you  will,"  rejoined  the 
girl,  rising.  "  You  will  not  stop  my  going,  because  I  have 
trusted  in  your  goodness,  and  forced  no  promise  from  you, 
as  I  might  have  done." 

"  Of  what  use,  then,  is  the  communication  you  have 
made  ? "  said  Rose.  "  This  mystery  must  be  investigated, 
or  how  will  its  disclosure  to  me  benefit  Oliver,  whom  you 
are  anxious  to  serve  ?  " 


308  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  You  must  have  some  kind  gentleman  about  you  that 
will  hear  it  as  a  secret  and  advise  you  what  to  do,"  rejoined 
the  girl. 

w  But  where  can  I  find  you  again  when  it  is  necessary  ?" 
asked  Rose.  "I  do  not  seek  to  know  where  these  dreadful 
people  live,  but  where  will  you  be  walking  or  passing  at  any 
settled  period  from  this  time  ?  " 

"Will  you  promise  me  that  you  will  have  my  secret  strict- 
ly kept,  and  come  alone,  or  with  the  only  other  person  that 
knows  it,  and  that  I  shall  not  be  watched  or  followed  ? " 
asked  the  girl. 

"  I  promise  you  solemnly,"  answered  Rose. 

"  Every  Sunday  night  from  eleven  until  the  clock  strikes 
twelve,"  said  the  girl,  without  hesitation,  "I  will  walk  on 
London  Bridge,  if  I  am  alive." 

"  Stay  another  moment,"  interposed  Rose,  as  the  girl 
moved  hurriedly  toward  the  door,  "  Think  once  again  on 
your  own  condition,  and  the  opportunity  you  have  of  escap- 
ing from  it.  You  have  a  claim  on  me,  not  only  as  the  vol- 
untary bearer  of  this  intelligence,  but  as  a  woman  lost 
almost  beyond  redemption.  Will  you  return  to  this  gang  of 
robbers,  and  to  this  man,  when  a  word  can  save  you  ?  What 
fascination  is  it  that  can  take  you  back  and  make  you  cling 
to  wickedness  and  misery  ?  Oh  !  is  there  no  chord  in  your 
heart  that  I  can  touch  ?  Is  there  nothing  left  to  which  I 
can  appeal  against  this  terrible  infatuation  ? " 

"When  ladies  as  young,  and  good,  and  beautiful  as  you 
are,"  replied  the  girl,  steadily,  "  give  away  your  hearts,  love 
will  carry  you  all  lengths — even  such  as  you,  who  have 
home,  friends,  other  admirers,  every  thing  to  fill  them. 
When  such  as  I,  who  have^no  certain  roof  but  the  coffin-lid, 
and  no  friend  in  sickness  or  death  but  the  hospital  nurse, 
set  our  rotten  hearts  on  any  man,  and  let  him  fill  the  place 
that  has  been  a  blank  through  all  our  wretched  lives,  who 
can  hope  to  cure  us  ?  Pity  us,  lady — pity  us  for  having  only 
one  feeling  of  the  woman  left,  and  for  having  that  turned 
by  a  heavy  judgment  from  a  comfort  and  a  pride,  into  a 
means  of  violence  and  suffering." 

"  You  will,"  said  Rose,  after  a  pause,  "  take  some  money 
from  me,  which  may  enable  you  to  live  without  dishonesty 
— at  all  events,  until  we  meet  again  ? " 

"  Not  a  penny,"  replied  the  girl,  waving  her  hand. 

■  Do  not  close  your  heart   against  all  my  efforts  to  help 


OLIVER  TWIST.  309 

you,"  said  Rose,  stepping  gently  forward.  "  I  wish  to  serve 
you,  indeed." 

"  You  would  serve  me  best,  lady,"  replied  the  girl,  wring- 
ing her  hands,  "  if  you  could  take  my  life  at  once  ;  for  I 
have  felt  more  grief  to  think  of  what  I  am  to-night  than  I 
ever  did  before,  and  it  would  be  something  not  to  die 
in  the  hell  in  which  I  have  lived.  God  bless  you,  sweet 
lady,  and  send  as  much  happiness  on  your  head  as  I  have 
brought  shame  on  mine  !  " 

Thus  speaking,  and  sobbing  aloud,  the  unhappy  creature 
turned  away  ;  while  Rose  Maylie,  overpowered  by  this 
extraordinary  interview,  which  had  more  the  resemblance 
of  a  rapid  dream  than  an  actual  occurrence,  sank  into  a 
chair,  and  endeavored  to  collect  her  wandering  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

CONTAINING  FRESH    DISCOVERIES,    AND  SHOWING  THAT  SUR- 
PRISES, LIKE  MISFORTUNES,  SELDOM  COME  ALONE. 

Her  situation  was,  indeed,  one  of  no  common  trial  and 
difficulty.  While  she  felt  the  most  eager  and  burning  desire 
to  penetrate  the  mystery  in  which  Oliver's  history  was  en- 
veloped, she  could  not  but  hold  sacred  the  confidence  which 
the  miserable  woman  with  whom  she  had  just  conversed  had 
reposed  in  her,  as  a  young  and  guileless  girl.  Her  words 
and  manner  had  touched  Rose  Maylie's  heart ;  and,  mingled 
with  her  love  for  her  young  charge,  and  scarcely  less  in- 
tense, in  its  truth  and  fervor,  was  her  fond  wish  to  win  the 
outcast  back  to  repentance  and  hope. 

They  purposed  remaining  in  London  only  three  days,  prior 
to  departing  for  some  weeks  to  a  distant  part  of  the  coast. 
It  was  now  midnight  of  the  first  day.  What  course  of 
action  could  she  determine  upon  which  could  be  adopted  in 
eight-and-forty  hours  ?  Or  how  could  she  postpone  the 
journey  without  exciting  suspicion  ? 

Mr.  Losberne  was  with  them,  and  would  be  for  the  next 
two  days  ;  but  Rose  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  excel- 
lent gentleman's  impetuosity,  and  foresaw  too  clearly  the 
wrath  with  which,  in  the  first  explosion  of  his  indignation, 


310  OLIVER  TWIST. 

he  would  regard  the  instrument  of  Oliver's  recapture,  to 
trust  him  with  the  secret,  when  her  representations  in  the 
girl's  behalf  could  be  seconded  by  no  experienced  person. 
These  were  all  reasons  for  the  greatest  caution  and  most 
circumspect  behavior  in  communicating  it  to  Mrs.  Maylie; 
whose  first  impulse  would  infallibly  be  to  hold  a  conference 
with  the  worthy  doctor  on  the  subject.  As  to  resorting  to 
any  legal  adviser,  even  if  she  had  known  how  to  do  so,  it  was 
scarcely  to  be  thought  of  for  the  same  reasons.  Once  the 
thought  occurred  to  her  of  seeking  assistance  from  Harry  ; 
but  this  awakened  the  recollection  of  their  last  parting,  and 
it  seemed  unworthy  of  her  to  call  him  back,  when — the  tears 
rose  to  her  eyes  as  she  pursued  this  train  of  reflection — he 
might  have  by  this  time  learned  to  forget  her,  and  to  be 
happier  away. 

Disturbed  by  these  different  reflections  ;  inclining  now  to 
one  course  and  then  to  another,  and  again  recoiling  from  all, 
as  each  successive  consideration  presented  itself  to  her  mind, 
Rose  passed  a  sleepless  and  anxious  night.  After  more 
communing  with  herself  next  day,  she  arrived  at  the  desper- 
ate conclusion  of  consulting  Harry. 

"If  it  be  painful  to  him,"  she  thought,  "to  come  back 
here,  how  painful  it  will  be  to  me  !  But  perhaps  he  will  not 
come  ;  he  may  write,  or  he  may  come  himself,  and  studiously 
abstain  from  meeting  me — he  did  when  he  went  away.  I 
hardly  thought  he  would  ;  but  it  was  better  for  us  both." 
And  here  Rose  dropped  the  pen  and  turned  away,  as  though 
the  very  paper  which  was  to  be  her  messenger  should  not 
see  her  weep.  « 

She  had  taken  up  the  same  pen  and  laid  it  down  again 
fifty  times,  and  had  considered  and  reconsidered  the  first 
line  of  her  letter  without  writing  the  first  word,  when  Oliver, 
who  had  been  walking  in  the  streets,  with  Mr.  Giles,  for  a 
body-guard,  entered  the  room  in  such  breathless  haste  and 
violent  agitation,  as  seemed  to  betoken  some  new  cause  of 
alarm. 

"  What  makes  you  look  so  flurried  ? "  asked  Rose  advanc- 
ing to  meet  him. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  ;  I  feel  as  if  I  should  be  choked." 
replied  the  boy.  "  Oh  dear  !  To  think  that  I  should  see 
him  at  last,  and  you  should  be  able  to  know  that  I  have 
U.ld  you  all  the  truth  ! " 

"  I    never  thought   you  had   told    us  any  thing  but  the 


OLIVER  TWIST.  311 

truth,"  said  Rose,  soothing  him.  "  But  what  is  this  ? — of 
whom  do  you  speak  ? " 

"  I  have  seen  the  gentleman,"  replied  Oliver,  scarcely  able 
to  articulate,  "  the  gentleman  who  was  so  good  to  me — Mr. 
Brownlow,  that  we  have  so  often  talked  about." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Getting  out  of  a  coach,"  replied  Oliver,  shedding  tears 
of  delight,  "  and  going  into  a  house.  I  didn't  speak  to  him — 
I  couldn't  speak  to  him,  for  he  didn't  see  me,  and  I  trembled 
so  that  I  was  not  able  to  go  up  to  him.  But  Giles  asked, 
for  me,  whether  he  lived  there,  and  they  said  he  did.  Look 
here,"  said  Oliver,  opening  a  scrap  of  paper;  "  here  it  is  ; 
here's  where  he  lives — I'm  going  there  directly  !  Oh,  dear 
me,  dear  me  !  What  shall  I  do  when  I  come  to  see  him  and 
hear  him  speak  again  !  " 

With  her  attention  not  a  little  distracted  by  these  and  a 
great  many  other  incoherent  exclamations  of  joy,  Rose  read 
the  address,  which  was  Craven  Street  in  the  Strand.  She 
very  soon  determined  upon  turning  the  discovery  to 
account. 

"  Quick  !  "  she  said.  "  Tell  them  to  fetch  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  be  ready  and  go  with  me.  I  will  take  you  there 
directly,  without  a  minute's  loss  of  time.  I  will  only  tell  my 
aunt  that  we  are  going  out  for  an  hour,  and  be  ready  as 
soon  as  you  are." 

Oliver  needed  no  prompting  to  dispatch,  and  in  little 
more  than  five  minutes  they  were  on  their  way  to  Craven 
Street.  When  they  arrived  there,  Rose  left  Oliver  in  the 
coach,  under  pretense  of  preparing  the  old  gentleman  to 
receive  him  ;  and  sending  up  her  card  by  the  servant,  re- 
quested to  see  Mr.  Brownlow  on  very  pressing  business. 
The  servant  soon  returned  to  beg  that  she  would  walk  up 
stairs  ;  and  following  him  into  an  upper  room,  Miss  Maylie 
was  presented  to  an  elderly  gentleman  of  benevolent  appear- 
ance, in  a  bottle-green  coat ;  at  no  great  distance  from 
whom  was  seated  another  old  gentleman,  in  nankeen 
breeches  and  gaiters,  and  who  did  not  look  particularly 
benevolent,  and  who  was  sitting  with  his  hands  clasped  on 
the  top  of  a  thick  stick,  and  his  chin  propped  thereupon. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  the  gentleman  in  the  bottle-green  coat, 
hastily  rising  with  great  politeness,  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
young  lady —  I  imagined  it  was  some  importunate  person 
who — I  beg  you  will  excuse  me.     Be  seated,  pray." 


312  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Mr.  Brownlow,  I  believe,  sir  ? "  said  Rose,  glancing 
from  the  other  gentleman  to  the  one  who  had  spoken. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "This  is 
my  friend,  Mr.  Grimwig.  Grimwig,  will  you  leave  us  for  a 
few  minutes  ?" 

"  I  believe,"  interposed  Miss  Maylie,  "  that  at  this  period 
of  our  interview  I  need  not  give  that  gentleman  the  trouble 
of  going  away.  If  I  am  correctly  informed,  he  is  cognizant 
of  the  business  on  which  I  wish  to  speak  to  you." 

Mr.  Brownlow  inclined  his  head.  Mr.  Grimwig,  who  had 
made  one  very  stiff  bow,  and  risen  from  his  chair,  made 
another  very  stiff  bow,  and  dropped  into  it  again. 

"  I  shall  surprise  you  very  much,  I  have  no  doubt,"  said 
Rose,  naturally  embarrassed  ;  "  but  you  once  showed  great 
benevolence  and  goodness  to  a  very  dear  young  friend  of 
mine,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  take  an  interest  in  hearing  of 
him  again." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said    Mr.  Brownlow. 

"Oliver  Twist  you  knew  him  as,"  replied  Rose. 

The  words  no  sooner  escaped  her  lips,  than  Mr.  Grimwig, 
who  had  been  affecting  todip  into  a  large  book  that  lay  on 
the  table,  upset  it  with  a  great  crash,  and  falling  back  in  his 
chair,  discharged  from  his  features  every  expression  but  one 
of  unmitigated  wonder,  and  indulged  in  a  prolonged  and 
vacant  stare  ;  then,  as  if  ashamed  of  having  betrayed  so 
much  emotion,  he  jerked  himself,  as  it  were,  by  a  convulsion 
into  his  former  attitude,  and  looking  out  straight  before  him, 
emitted  a  long  deep  whistle,  which  seemed  at  last  not  to  be 
discharged  on  empty  air,  but  to  die  away  in  the  innermost 
recesses  of  his  stomach. 

Mr.  Brownlow  was  no  less  surprised,  although  his  astonish- 
ment was  not  expressed  in  the  same  eccentric  manner.  He 
drew  his  chair  nearer  to  Miss  Maylie's  and  said  : 

"  Do  me  the  favor,  my  dear  young  lady,  to  leave  entirely 
out  of  the  question  that  goodness  and  benevolence  of  which 
you  speak,  and  of  which  nobody  else  knows  any  thing  ;  and 
if  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  produce  any  evidence  which 
will  alter  the  unfavorable  opinion  I  was  once  induced  to 
entertain  of  that  poor  child,  in  Heaven's  name  put  me  in 
possession  of  it." 

"  A  bad  one  !  I'll  eat  my  head  if  he  is  not  a  bad  one  !  " 
growled  Mr.  Grimwig,  speaking  by  some  ventriloquial  powei 
without  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  313 

"He  is  a  child  of  a  noble  nature  and  a  warm  heart,"  said 
Rose,  coloring;  "and  that  Power  which  has  thought  fit  to 
try  him  beyond  his  years  has  planted  in  his  breast  affec- 
tion and  feelings  which  would  do  honor  to  many  who  have 
numbered  his  days  six  times  over." 

M  I'm  only  sixty-one,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  with  the  same 
rigid  face.  "  And,  as  the  devil's  in  it  if  this  Oliver  is  not 
twelve  years  old  at  least,  I  don't  see  the  application  of  that 
remark." 

"  Do  not  heed  my  friend,  Miss  Maylie,"  said  Mr.  Brown- 
low  ;  "  he  does  not  mean  what  he  says." 

"  Yes,  he  does,"  growled  Mr.  Grimwig. 

"  No,  he  does  not,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  obviously  rising 
in  wrath  as  he  spoke. 

"  He'll  eat  his  head,  if  he  doesn't,"  growled  Mr.  Grim- 
wig. 

*'  He  would  deserve  to  have  it  knocked  off,  if  he  does," 
said  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"  And  he'd  uncommonly  like  to  see  any  man  offer  to  do 
it,"  responded  Mr.  Grimwig,  knocking  his  stick  upon  the 
floor. 

Having  gone  thus  far,  the  two  old  gentlemen  severally 
took  snuff,  and  afterward  shook  hands,  according  to  their 
invariable  custom. 

"  Now,  Miss  Maylie,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  to  return  to 
the  subject  in  which  your  humanity  is  so  much  interested. 
Will  you  let  me  know  what  intelligence  you  have  of  this 
poor  child  ;  allowing  me  to  premise  that  I  exhausted  every 
means  in  my  power  of  discovering  him,  and  that  since  I 
have  been  absent  from  this  country,  my  first  impression  that 
he  had  imposed  upon  me,  and  had  been  persuaded  by  his 
former  associates  to  rob  me,  has  been  considerably  shaken." 

Rose,  who  had  had  time  to  collect  her  thoughts,  at  once 
related,  in  a  few  natural  words,  all  that  had  befallen  Oliver 
since  he  left  Mr.  Brownlow's  house  ;  reserving  Nancy's  in- 
formation for  that  gentleman's  private  ear,  and  concluding 
with  the  assurance  that  his  only  sorrow  for  some  months 
past  had  been  the  not  being  able  to  meet  with  his  former 
benefactor  and  friend. 

"Thank  God  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  This  is  great 
happiness  to  me,  great  happiness.  But  you  have  not  told 
me  where  he  is  now,  Miss  Maylie.  You  must  pardon  my 
finding  fault  with  you — but  why  not  have  brought  him  ?  " 


314  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  He  is  waiting  in  a  coach  at  the  door,"  replied  Rose. 

"  At  this  door  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman.  With  which 
he  hurried  out  of  the  room,  down  the  stairs,  up  the  coach- 
steps,  and  into  the  coach,  without  another  word. 

When  the  room-door  closed  behind  him,  Mr.  Grimwig 
lifted  up  his  head,  and  converting  one  of  the  hind  legs  of  his 
chair  into  a  pivot,  described  three  distinct  circles  with  the 
assistance  of  his  stick  and  the  table,  sitting  in  it  all  the  time. 
After  performing  this  evolution,  he  rose  and  limped  as  fast 
as  he  could  up  and  down  the  room  at  least  a  dozen  times, 
and  then  stopping  suddenly  before  Rose,  kissed  her  without 
the  slightest  preface. 

"  Hush  !  "  he  said,  as  the  young  lady  rose  in  some  alarm 
at  this  unusual  proceeding.  "Don't  be  afraid.  I'm  old 
enough  to  be  your  grandfather.  You're  a  sweet  girl.  I 
like  you.     Here  they  are  !  " 

In  fact,  as  he  threw  himself  at  one  dextrous  dive  into  his 
former  seat,  Mr.  Brownlow  returned,  accompanied  by  Oliver, 
whom  Mr.  Grimwig  received  very  graciously  ;  and  if  the 
gratification  of  that  moment  had  been  the  only  reward  for 
all  her  anxiety  and  care  in  Oliver's  behalf,  Rose  Maylie 
would  have  been  well  repaid. 

"  There  is  somebody  else  who  should  not  be  forgotten, 
by-the-by,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  ringing  the  bell,  "  Send 
Mrs.Bedwin  here,  if  you  please." 

The  old  housekeeper  answered  the  summons  with  all  dis- 
patch ;  and  dropping  a  courtesy  at  the  door,  waited  for 
orders. 

"Why,  you  get  blinder  every  day,  Bedwin,"  said  Mr. 
Brownlow,  rather  testily. 

"Well,  that  I  do,  sir,"  replied  the  old  lady.  c<  People's 
eyes,  at  my  time  of  life,  don't  improve  with  age,  sir." 

"  I  could  have  told  you  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Brownlow;  "  but 
put  on  your  glasses,  and  see  if  you  can't  find  out  what  you 
were  wanted  for,  will  you  ?  " 

The  old  lady  began  to  rummage  in  her  pocket  for  her 
spectacles.  But  Oliver's  patience  was  not  proof  against  this 
new  trial  ;  and  yielding  to  his  first  impulse,  he  sprang  into 
her  arms. 

"  God  be  good  to  me  !  "  cried  the  old  lady,  embracing  him  ; 
"  it  is  my  innocent  boy  !  " 

"  My  dear  old  nurse  !  "  cried  Oliver. 

"He would  come  back — I  knew  he  would,"  said  the  old 


OLIVER  TWIST.  315 

lady,  holding  him  in  her  arms.  "  How  well  he  looks,  and 
how  like  a  gentleman's  son  he  is  dressed  again  !  Where 
have  you  been  this  long,  long  while  ?  Ah  !  the  same  sweet 
face,  but  not  so  pale  ;  the  same  soft  eye,  but  not  so  sad.  I 
have  never  forgotten  them  or  his  quiet  smile,  but  have  seen 
them  every  day,  side  by  side  with  those  of  my  own  dear 
children,  dead  and  gone  since  I  was  a  lightsome  young 
creature."  Running  on  thus,  and  now  holding  Oliver  from 
her  to  mark  how  he  had  grown,  now  clasping  him  to  her  and 
passing  her  fingers  fondly  through  his  hair,  the  good  soul 
laughed  and  wept  upon  his  neck  by  turns. 

Leaving  her  and  Oliver  to  compare  notes  at  leisure,  Mr. 
Brownlow  led  the  way  into  another  room,  and  there  heard 
from  Miss  Rose  a  full  narration  of  her  interview  with  Nancy, 
which  occasioned   him  no  little  surprise   and  perplexity. 

Rose  also  explained  her  reasons  for  not  confiding  in  her 
friend  Mr.  Losberne  in  the  first  instance.  The  old  gentle- 
man considered  that  she  had  acted  prudently,  and  readily 
undertook  to  hold  solemn  conference  with  the  worthy  doctor 
himself.  To  afford  him  an  early  opportunity  for  the  execu- 
tion of  this  design,  it  was  arranged  that  lie  should  call  at 
the  hotel  at  eight  o'  clock  that  evening,  and  that  in  the  mean- 
time Mrs.  Maylie  should  be  cautiously  informed  of  all  that 
had  occurred.  These  preliminaries  adjusted,  Rose  and  Oliver 
returned  home. 

Rose  had  by  no  means  overrated  the  measure  of  the  good 
doctor's  wrath.  Nancy's  history  was  no  sooner  unfolded  to 
him,  than  he  poured  forth  a  shower  of  mingled  threats  and 
execrations,  threatened  to  make  her  the  first  victim  of  the 
combined  ingenuity  of  Messrs.  Blathers  and  Duff,  and  ac- 
tually put  on  his  hat  preparatory  to  sallying  forth  to  obtain 
the  assistance  of  those  worthies.  And  doubtless  he  would, 
in  this  first  outbreak,  have  carried  the  intention  into  effect 
without  a  moment's  consideration  of  the  consequences,  if  he 
had  not  been  restrained  in  part  by  corresponding  violence 
on  the  side  of  Mr.  Brownlow,  who  was  himself  of  an  irascible 
temperament,  and  partly  by  such  arguments  and  represen- 
tations as  seemed  best  calculated  to  dissuade  him  from  his 
hot-brained  purpose. 

"  Then  what  the  devil  is  to  be  done  ?  "  said  the  impetuous 
doctor,  when  they  had  rejoined  the  two  ladies.  "  Are  we 
to  pass  a  vote  of  thanks  to  all  these  vagabonds,  male  and 
female,  and  beg  them  to  accept  a  hundred  pounds  or  so 


3iO  OLIVER  TWIST. 

apiece,  as  a  trifling  mark  of  our  esteem,  and  some  slight 
acknowledgment  of  their  kindness  to  Oliver  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Brownlow,  laughing, 
"  but  we  must  proceed  gently  and  with  great  care." 

"  Gentleness  and  care  !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor;  I'd 
send  them,  one  and  all,  to — " 

"  Never  mind  where,"  interposed  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  But  re- 
flect whether  sending  them  any  where  is  likely  to  attain  the 
object  we  have  in  view." 

"  What  object  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Simply  the  discovery  of  Oliver's  parentage,  and  regain- 
ing for  him  the  inheritance  of  which,  if  this  story  be  true,  he 
has  been  fraudulently  deprived." 

"Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Losberne,  cooling  himself  with  his  pock- 
et-handkerchief ;  "  I  almost  forgot  that." 

"You  see,"  pursued  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  placing  this  girl  en- 
tirely out  of  the  question,  and  supposing  it  were  possible  to 
bring  these  scoundrels  to  justice  without  compromising  her 
safety,  what   good  should  we  bring  about  ? " 

"Hanging  a  few  of  them,  at  least,  in  all  probability," 
suggested  the  doctor,  "  and  transporting  the  rest." 

"Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  smiling;  "but  no 
doubt  they  will  bring  that  about  for  themselves  in  the  full- 
ness of  time  ;  and  if  we  step  in  to  forestall  them,  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  will  be  performing  a  very  Quixotic  act,  in  direct 
opposition  to  our  own  interest — or  at  least  to  Oliver's,  which 
is  the  same  thing." 

"  How  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Thus.  It  is  quite  clear  that  we  shall  have  extreme 
difficulty  in  getting  to  the  bottom  of  this  mystery,  unless  we 
can  bring  this  man,  Monks,  upon  his  knees.  That  can  be 
done  only  by  stratagem,  and  by  catching  him  when  he  is 
not  surrounded  by  these  people.  For,  suppose  he  were  ap- 
prehended, we  have  no  proof  against  him.  He  is  not  even 
(so  far  as  we  know,  or  as  the  facts  appear  to  us)  concerned 
with  the  gang  in  any  of  their  robberies.  If  he  were  not  dis- 
charged, it  is  very  unlikely  that  he  could  receive  any  further 
punishment  than  being  committed  to  prison  as  a  rogue  and 
vagabond  ;  and  of  course  ever  afterward  his  mouth  would 
be  so  obstinately  closed  that  he  might  as  well,  for  our  pur- 
poses, be  deaf,  dumb,  blind,  and  an  idiot." 

"Then,"  said  the  doctor,  impetuously,  "  I  put  it  to  you 
again,  whether  you  think  it  reasonable  that  this  promise  to 


OLIVER  TWIST.  317 

the  girl  should  be  considered  binding  ;  a  promise  made  with 
the  best  intentions,-  but  really — " 

"  Do  not  discuss  the  point,  my  dear  young  lady,  pray," 
said  Mr.  Brownlow,  interrupting  Rose  as  she  was  about  to 
speak.  "  The  promise  shall  be  kept.  I  don't  think  it  will, 
in  the  slightest  degree,  interfere  with  our  proceedings.  But, 
before  we  can  resolve  upon  any  precise  course  of  action,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  see  the  girl,  to  ascertain  fro<m  her 
whether  she  will  point  out  this  Monks,  on  the  understanding 
that  he  is  to  be  dealt  with  by  us,  and  not  by  the  law  ;  or,  if 
she  will  not  or  cannot  do  that,  to  procure  from  her  such  an 
account  of  his  haunts  and  description  of  his  person  as  will 
enable  us  to  identify  him.  She  can  not  be  seen  until  next 
Sunday  night ;  this  is  Tuesday.  I  would  suggest  that  in  the 
mean  time  we  remain  perfectly  quiet,  and  keep  these  matters 
secret  even  from  Oliver  himself." 

Although  Mr.  Losborne  received  with  many  wry  faces  a 
proposal  to  wait  five  whole  days,  he  was  fain  to  admit  that 
no  better  course  occurred  to  him  just  then  ;  and  as  both 
Rose  and  Mrs.  Maylie  sided  with  Mr.  Brownlow,  that  gen- 
tleman's proposition  was  carried  unanimously. 

"  I  should  like,"  he  said,  "  to  call  in  the  aid  of  my  friend 
Grimwig.  He  is  a  strange  creature,  but  a  shrewd  one,  and 
might  prove  of  material  assistance  to  us  ;  I  should  say  that 
he  was  bred  a  lawyer,  and  quitted  the  Bar  in  disgust  be- 
cause he  had  only  one  brief  and  a  motion  of  course,  in  twenty 
years,  though  whether  that  is  a  recommendation  or  not,,  you 
must  determine  for  yourselves." 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  your  calling  in  your  friend  if  I 
may  call  in  mine,"  said  the  doctor. 

We  must  put  it  to  the  vote,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  "who 
may  he  be  ?  "  * 

"  That  lady's  son,  and  this  young  lady's — very  old  friend," 
said  the  doctor,  motioning  toward  Mrs.  Maylie,  and  con- 
cluding with  an  expressive  glance  at  her  niece. 

Rose  blushed  deeply,  but  she  did  not  make  any  audible 
objection  fo  this  motion  (possibly  she  felt  in  a  hopeless  mi- 
nority) ;  and  Harry  Maylie  and  Mr.  Grimwig  were  accord- 
ingly added  to  the  committee. 

"We  stay  in  town,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  "while 
there  remains  the  slightest  prospect  of  prosecuting  this  in- 
quiry with  a  chance  of  success.  I  will  spare  neither  trouble 
nor  expense  in  behalf  of  the  object  in  which  we  are  all  so 


318  OLIVER  TWIST. 

deeply  interested,  and  I  am  content  to  remain  here,  if  it 
be  for  twelve  months,  so  long  as  you  assure  me  that  any 
hope  remains." 

"  Good  !  "  rejoined  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  And  as  I  see  on  th« 
faces  about  me  a  disposition  to  inquire  how  it  happened  that 
I  was  not  in  the  way  to  corroborate  Oliver's  tale,  and  had 
so  suddenly  left  the  kingdom,  let  me  stipulate  that  I  shall 
be  ashed  no  questions  until  such  time  as  I  may  deem  it  ex- 
pedient to  forestall  them  by  telling  my  own  story.  Believe 
me,  I  make  this  request  with  good  reason,  for  I  might  other- 
wise excite  hopes  destined  never  to  be  realized,  and  only  in- 
crease difficulties  and  disappointments  already  quite  numer- 
ous enough.  Come !  Supper  has  been  announced,  and 
young  Oliver,  who  is  all  alone  in  the  next  room,  will  have 
begun  to  think  by  this  time  that  we  have  wearied  of  his 
company,  and  entered  into  some  dark  conspiracy  to  thrust 
him  forth  upon  the  world." 

With  these  words,  the  old  gentleman  gave  his  hand  to  Mrs. 
Maylie,  and  escorted  her  into  the  supper-room.  Mr.  Los- 
berne  followed,  leading  Rose,  and  the  council  was,  for  the 
present,  effectually  broken  up. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  OF  OLIVER'S,  EXHIBITING  DECIDED 
MARKS  OF  GENIUS,  BECOMES  A  PUBLIC  CHARACTER  IN  THE 
METROPOLIS. 

Upon  the  night  when  Nancy,  having  lulled  Mr.  Sikes  to 
sleep,  hurried  on  her  self-imposed  mission  to  Rose  Maylie, 
there  advanced  toward  London  by  the  Great  North  Road 
two  persons,  upon  whom  it  is  expedient  that  this  history 
should  bestow  some  attention.  % 

They  were  a  man  and  woman  ;  or  perhaps  they  would  be 
better  described  as  a  male  and  female  :  for  the  former  was 
one  of  those  long-limbed,  knock-kneed,  shambling,  bony  peo- 
ple, to  whom  it  is  difficult  to  assign  any  precise  age — looking 
as  they  do  when  they  are  yet  boys,  like  undergrown  men,  and 
when  they  are  almost  men,  like  overgrown  boys.  The  woman 
was  young,  but  of  a  robust  and  hardy  make,  as  she  need 


OLIVER  TWIST.  319 

have  been  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  heavy  bundle  which  was 
strapped  to  her  back.  Her  companion  was  not  incumbered 
with  much  luggage,  as  there  merely  dangled  from  a  stick 
which  he  carried  over  his  shoulder  a  small  parcel  wrapped 
in  a  common  handkerchief,  and  apparently  light  enough. 
This  circumstance,  added  to  the  length  of  his  legs,  which 
were  of  unusual  extent,  enabled  him  with  much  ease  to  keep 
some  half  dozen  paces  in  advance  of  his  companion,  to  whom 
he  occasionally  turned  with  an  impatient  jerk  of  the  head, 
as  if  reproaching  her  tardiness,  and  urging  her  to  greater  ex- 
ertion. 

Thus  they  had  toiled  along  the  dusty  road,  taking  little 
heed  of  any  object  within  sight,  save  when  they  stepped 
aside  to  allow  a  wider  passage  for  the  mail-coaches  which 
were  whirling  out  of  town,  until  they  passed  through  High- 
gate  archway ;  when  the  foremost  traveler  stopped  and 
called  impatiently  to  his  companion. 

"  Come  on,  can't  yer  ?  What  a  lazybones  yer  are, 
Charlotte  !  " 

"  It's  a  heavy  load,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  the  female,  com- 
ing up,'  almost  breathless  with  fatigue- 

Heavy  !  What  are  yer  talking  about  ?  What  are  yer 
made  for?"  rejoined  the  malt  traveler,  changing  his  own 
little  bundle  as  he  spoke,  to  the  other  shoulder.  '*  Oh,  there 
yer  are,  resting  again  !  Well  if  yer  ain't  enough  to  tire  any 
body's  patience  out,  I  don't  know  what  is  !  " 

"  Is  it  much  further  ? "  asked  the  woman,  resting  herself 
against  a  bank,  and  looking  up  with  the  perspiration  stream- 
ing from  her  face. 

"  Much  further  !  Yer  as  good  as  there,"  said  the  long- 
legged  tramper,  pointing  out  before  him.  "  Look  there  ! 
Those  are  the  lights  of  London." 

"They're  a  good  two  mile  off,  at  least,"  said  the  woman, 
despondingly. 

"  Never  mind  whether  they're  two  mile  off,  or  twenty," 
said  Noah  Claypole,  for  he  it  was  ;  "  but  get  up  and  come 
on,  or  I'll  kick  yer,  and  so  I  give  yer  notice." 

As  Noah's  red  nose  grew  redder  with  anger,  and  as  he  crossed 
the  road  while  speaking,  as  if  fully  prepared  to  put  his 
threat  into  execution,  the  woman  rose  without  any  further 
remark,  and  trudged  onward  by  his  side. 

"  Where  do  you  mean  to  stop  for  the  night,  Noah  ?  M 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  replied  Noah,  whose  temper  had 
been  considerably  impaired  by  walking. 


32o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Near,  I  hope,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  No,  not  near,"  replied  Mr.  Claypole.  "  There  !  Not 
near  ;  so  don't  think  it." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  When  I  tell  yer  that  I  don't  mean  to  do  a  thing,  that's 
enough,  without  any  why  or  because  either,"  replied  Mr. 
Claypole,  with  dignity. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  be  so  cross,"  said  his  companion. 

"  A  pretty  thing  it  would  be,  wouldn't  it,  to  go  and  stop 
at  the  very  first  public-house  outside  the  town,  so  that  Sow- 
erberry,  if  he  come  up  after  us,  might  poke  in  his  old  nose, 
and  have  us  taken  back  in  a  cart  with  handcuffs  on,"  said 
Mr.  Claypole,  in  a  jeering  tone.  "  No  !  I  shall  go  and  lose 
myself  among  the  narrowest  streets  I  can  find,  and  not  stop 
till  we  come  to  the  very  out-of-the-wayest  house  I  can  set 
eyes  on.  'Cod,  yer  may  thank  yer  stars  I've  got.  a  head  ; 
for  if  we  hadn't  gone  at  first  the  wrong  road  a  purpose,  and 
come  back  across  country,  yer'd  have  been  locked  up  hard 
and  fast  a  week  ago,  my  lady.  And  serve  yer  right  for 
being  a  fool." 

"  I  know  I  ain't  as  cunning  as  you  are,"  replied  Charlotte; 
"  but  don't  put  all  the  blame  on  me,  and  say  /  should  have 
been  locked  up.  You  would  have  been  if  I  had  been,  any 
way." 

"  Yer  took  the  money  from  the  till,  yer  know  yer  did," 
said  Mr.  Claypole. 

"  I  took  it  for  you,  Noah,  dear,"  rejoined  Charlotte. 

"  Did  I  keep  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Claypole. 

"  No  ;  you  trusted  in  me,  and  let  me  carry  it,  like  a  dear, 
and  so  you  are,"  said  the  lady,  chucking  him  under  the  chin, 
and  drawing  her  arm  through  his. 

This  was  indeed  the  case  ;  but  as  it  was  not  Mr.  Clay- 
pole's  habit  to  repose  a  blind  and  foolish  confidence  in  any 
body,  it  should  be  observed,  in  justice  to  that  gentleman, 
that  he  had  trusted  Charlotte  to  this  extent,  in  order  that,  if 
they  were  pursued,  the  money  might  be  found  on  her  ; 
which  would  leave  him  an  opportunity  of  asserting  his  in- 
nocence of  any  theft,  and  would  greatly  facilitate  his  chances 
of  escape.  Of  course  he  entered,  at  this  juncture,  into  no 
explanation  of  his  motives,  and  they  walked  on  very  lovingly 
together. 

In  pursuance  of  this  cautious  plan,  Mr.  Claypole  went  on, 
without  halting,  until  he  arrived  at  the  Angel  at  Islington 


OLIVER  TWIST.  321 

where  he  wisely  judged,  from  the  crowd  of  passengers  and 
number  of  vehicles,  that  London  began  in  earnest.  Just 
pausing  to  observe  which  appeared  the  most  crowded  streets, 
and  consequently  the  most  to  be  avoided,  he  crossed  into 
Saint  John's  Road,  and  was  soon  deep  in  the  obscurity  of 
the  intricate  and  dirty  ways,  which,  lying  between  Gray's 
Inn  Lane  and  Smithfield,  render  that  part  of  the  town  one 
of  the  lowest  and  worst  that  improvement  has  left  in  the 
midst  of  London. 

Through  these  streets  Noah  Claypole  walked,  dragging 
Charlotte  after  him  ;  now  stepping  into  the  kennel  to  em- 
brace at  a  glance  the  whole  external  character  of  some  small 
public-house,  now  jogging  on  again,  as  some  fancied  appear- 
ance induced  him  to  believe  it  too  public  for  his  purpose. 
At  length  he  stopped  in -front  of  one  more  humble  in  ap- 
pearance and  more  dirty  than  any  he  had  yet  seen  ;  and, 
having  crossed  over  and  surveyed  it  from  the  opposite  pave- 
ment, graciously  announced  his  intention  of  putting  up  for 
the  night. 

"  So  give  us  the  bundle,"  said  Noah,  unstrapping  it  from 
the  woman's  shoulders,  and  slinging  it  over  his  own,  "  and 
don't  yer  speak  except  when  yer  spoke  to.  What's  the  name 
of  the  house — t-h-r — three  what  ?  " 

"  Cripples,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  Three  Cripples,"  repeated  Noah,  "  and  a  very  good 
sign  too.  Now,  then  !  Keep  close  at  my  heels,  and  come 
along."  With  these  injunctions,  he  pushed  the  rattling 
door  with  his  shoulder,  and  entered  the  house,  followed  by 
his  companion. 

There  was  nobody  in  the  bar  but  a  young  Jew,  who,  with 
two  elbows  on  the  counter,  was  reading  a  dirty  newspaper. 
He  stared  very  hard  at  Noah,  and  Noah  started  very  hard 
at  him. 

If  Noah  had  been  attired  in  his  charity-boy's  dress,  there 
might  have  been  some  reason  for  the  Jew  opening  his  eyes 
so  wide  ;  but  as  he  had  discarded  the  coat  and  badge,  and 
wore  a  short  smock-frock  over  his  leathers,  there  seemed  no 
particular  reason  for  his  appearance  exciting  so  much  at- 
tention in  a  public-house. 

"  Is  this  the  Three  Cripples  ?  "  asked  Noah. 

"  That  is  the  dabe  of  this  ouse,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"  A  gentleman  we  met  on  the  road,  coming  up  from  the 
country,  recommended  us  here,"  said  Noah,  nudging  Char- 


322  OLIVER  TWIST. 

lotte,  perhaps  to  call  her  attention  to  this  most  ingenious 
device  for  attracting  respect,  and  perhaps  to  warn  her  to 
betray  no  surprise.     "  We  want  to  sleep  here  to-night." 

"  I'b  dot  certaid  you  cad,"  said  Barney,  who  was  the  at- 
tendant sprite  ;  "but  I'll  idquire." 

"  Show  us  the  tap,  and  give  us  a  bit  of  cold  meat  and  a 
drop  of  beer  while  yer  inquiring,  will  yer  ?  "  said  Noah. 

Barney  complied  by  ushering  them  into  a  small  back- 
room, and  setting  the  required  viands  before  them  ;  having 
done  which,  he  informed  the  travelers  that  they  could  be 
lodged  that  night,  and  left  the  amiable  couple  to  their  re- 
freshment. 

Now,  this  back-room  was  immediately  behind  the  bar, 
and  some  steps  lower,  so  that  any  person  connected  with 
the  house  undrawing  a  small  curtain,  which  concealed  a 
single  pane  of  glass  fixed  in  the  wall  of  the  last-named 
apartment  about  five  feet  from  its  flooring,  could  not  only 
look  down  upon  any  guests  in  the  back-room  without  any 
great  hazard  of  being  observed  (the  glass  being  in  a  dark 
angle  of  the  wall,  between  which  and  a  large  upright  beam 
the  observer  had  to  thrust  himself),  but  could,  by  applying 
his  ear  to  the  partition,  ascertain  with  tolerable  distinctness 
their  subject  of  conversation.  The  landlord  of  the  house 
had  not  withdrawn  his  eye  from  this  place  of  espial  for  five 
minutes,  and  Barney  had  only,  just  returned  from  making 
the  communication  above  related,  when  Fagin,  in  the  course 
of  his  evening's  business,  came  into  the  bar  to  inquire  after 
some  of  his  young  pupils. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Barney  ;  "  stradgers  id  the  next  roob." 

"  Strangers  !  "  repeated  the  old  man,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ah  !  Ad  rub  uds  too,"  added  Barney.  "  Frob  the 
cuttry,  but  subthig  in  your  way,  or  I'b  bistaked." 

Fagin  appeared  to  receive  this  communication  with  great 
interest.  Mounting  a  stool,  he  cautiously  applied  his  eye  to 
the  pane  of  glass,  from  which  secret  post  he  could  see  Mr. 
Claypole  taking  cold  beef  from  the  dish  and  porter  from  the 
pot,  and  administering  homeopathic  doses  of  both  to  Char- 
lotte, who  sat  patiently  by,  eating  and  drinking  at  his 
pleasure.  >» 

"  Aha  !  "  he  whispered,  looking  round  to  Barney,  "  I  like 
that  fellow's  looks.  He'd  be  of  use  to  us  ;  he  knows  how 
to  train  the  girl  already.  Don't  make  as  much  noise  as  « 
mouse,  my  dear,  and  let  me  hear  'em  talk — let  me  hear 'em." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  323 

He  again  applied  his  eye  to  the  glass,  and  turning  his  ear 
to  the  partition,  listened  attentively,  with  a  subtle  and  eager 
look  upon  his  face  that  might  have  appertained  to  some  old 
goblin. 

"  So  I  mean  to  be  a  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Claypole,  kick- 
ing out  his  legs,  and  continuing  a  conversation  the  com- 
mencement of  which  Fagin  had  arrived  too  late  to  hear. 
"  No  more  jolly  old  coffins,  Charlotte,  but  a  gentleman's 
life  for  me  ;  and,  if  yer  like,  yer  shall  be  a  lady." 

"  I  should  like  that  well  enough,  dear,"  replied  Charlotte  ; 
"  but  tills  ain't  to  be  emptied  every  day,  and  people  to  get 
clear  off  after  it." 

"  Tills  he  blowed  !  "  said  Mr.  Claypole  ;  "  there's  more 
things  besides  tills  to  be  emptied." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  his  companion. 

"  Pockets,  women's  ridicules,  houses,  mail-coaches, 
banks  !  "  said  Mr.  Claypole,  rising  with  the  porter. 

"  But  you  can't  do  all  that,  dear,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  I  shall  look  out  to  get  into  company  with  them  as  can," 
replied  Noah.  "  They'll  be  able  to  make  us  useful  some- 
way or  another.  Why,  you  yourself  are  worth  fifty  women; 
I  never  see  such  a  precious  sly  and  deceitful  creetur  as  yer 
can  be  when  I  let  yer." 

"  Lor,  how  nice  it  is  to  hear  you  say  so  !  "  exclaimed 
Charlotte,  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  his  ugly  face. 

"There,  that'll  do  ;  don't  yer  be  too  affectionate,  in  case 
I'm  cross  with  yer,"  said  Noah,  disengaging  himself  with 
great  gravity.  I  should  like  to  be  the  captain  of  some 
band,  and  have  the  whopping  of  'em,  and  follering  'em 
about,  unbeknown  to  themselves.  That  would  suit  me,  if 
there  was  good  profit  ;  and  if  we  could  only  get  in  with 
some  gentlemen  of  this  sort,  I  say  it  would  be  cheap  at  that 
twenty-pound  note  you've  got — especially  as  we  don't  very 
well  know  how  to  get  rid  of  it  ourselves." 

After  expressing  this  opinion,  Mr.  Claypole  looked  into 
the  porter-pot  with  an  aspect  of  deep  wisdom  ;  and  having 
well  shaken  its  contents,  nodded  condescendingly  to  Char- 
lotte, and  took  a  draught,  wherewith  he  appeared  greatly 
refreshed.  He  was  meditating  another,  when  the  sudden 
opening  of  the  door  and  the  appearance  of  a  stranger  inter- 
rupted him. 

The  stranger  was  Mr.  Fagin.  And  very  amiable  he 
looked,  and  a  very  low  bow  he  made   as  he  advanced,  and, 


324  OLIVER  TWIST. 

sitting  himself  down  at  the  nearest  table,  ordered  something 
to  drink  of  the  grinning  Barney. 

"A  pleasant  night,  sir,  but  cool  for  the  time  of  year," 
said  Fagin,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  From  the  Country,  I  see, 
sir?" 

"  How  do  yer  see  that  ?  "  asked  Noah  Claypole. 

"  We  have  not  so  much  dust  as  that  in  London,"  replied 
Fagin,  pointing  from  Noah's  shoes  to  those  of  his  compan- 
ion, and  from  them  to  the  two  bundles. 

"  Yer  a  sharp  feller,"  said  Noah.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  only  hear 
that,  Charlotte  !  " 

"Why,  one  need  be  sharp  in  this  town,  my  dear,"  re- 
plied the  Jew,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper  ; 
"and  that's  the  truth." 

Fagin  followed  up  this  remark  by  striking  the  side  of  his 
nose  with  his  right  forefinger — a  gesture  which  Noah  at- 
tempted to  imitate,  though  not  with  complete  success,  in 
consequence  of  his  own  nose  not  being  large  enough  for  the 
purpose.  However,  Mr.  Fagin  seemed  to  interpret  the  en- 
deavor as  expressing  a  perfect  coincidence  with  his  opinion, 
and  put  about  the  liquor  which  Barney  re-appeared  with  in 
a  very  friendly  manner. 

"  Good  stuff  that,"  observed  Mr.  Claypole,  smacking  his 
lips. 

"  Dear  !  "  said  Fagin.  "A  man  need  be  always  emptying 
a  till,  or  a  pocket,  or  a  woman's  reticule,  or  a  house,  or  a 
mail-coach,  or  a  bank,  if  he  drinks  it  regularly." 

Mr.  Claypole  no  sooner  heard  this  extract  from  his  own 
remarks  than  he  fell  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked  from  the 
Jew  to  Charlotte  with  a  countenance  of  ashy  paleness  and 
excessive  terror. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin,  drawing  ^is 
chair  closer.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  it  was  lucky  it  was  only  me  that 
heard  you  by  chance.     It  was  very  lucky  it  was  only  me." 

"  I  didn't  take  it,"  stammered  Noah,  no  longer  stretch- 
ing out  his  legs  like  an  independent  gentleman,  but  coiling 
them  up  as  well  as  he  could  under  his  chair  ;  "  it  was  all 
her  doing  ;  yer've  got  it  now,  Charlotte,  yer  know  yer  have." 

"  No  matter  who's  got  it,  or  who  did  it,  my  dear  !  "  re- 
plied Fagin,  glancing,  nevertheless,  with  a  hawk's  eye  at  the 
girl  and  the  two  bundles.  "  I'm  in  that  way  myself,  and  I 
like  you  for  it." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Claypole,   a  little  recovering. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  325 

"  In  that  way  of  business,"  rejoined  Fagin  ;  "  and  so  are 
the  people  of  the  house.  You've  hit  the  right  nail  upon 
the  head,  and  are  as  safe  here  as  you  could  be.  There  is 
not  a  safer  place  in  all  this  town  than  is  The  Cripples — that 
is,  when  I  like  to  make  it  so.  And  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to 
you  and  the  young  woman  ;  so  I've  said  the  word,  and  you 
may  make  your  minds  easy." 

Noah  Claypole's  mind  might  have  been  at  ease  after  this- 
assurance,  but  his  body  certainly  was  not  ;  for  he  shuffled 
and  writhed  about  into  various  uncouth  positions,  eying  hi? 
new  friend  meanwhile  with  mingled  fear  and  suspicion. 

"  I'll  tell  you  more,"  said  Fagin,  after  he  had  reassurec1 
the  girl  by  dint  of  friendly  nods  and  muttered  encourage 
ments.  "  I  have  got  a  friend  that  I  think  can  gratify  you? 
darling  wish,  and  put  you  in  the  right  way,  where  you  cap 
take  whatever  department  of  the  business  you  think  will  sui* 
you  best  at  first,  and  be  taught  all  the  others." 

"  Yer  speak  as  if  yer  were  in  earnest,"  replied  Noah. 

"What  advantage  would  it  be  to  me  to  be  any  thing 
else  ?  "  inquired  Fagin,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  Here  ! 
Let  me  have  a  word  with  you  outside." 

"There's  no  occasion  to  trouble  ourselves  to  move,"  said 
Noah,  getting  his  legs  by  gradual  degrees  abroad  again. 
"  She'll  take  the  luggage  up  stairs  the  while.  Charlotte,  see 
to  them  bundles  !  " 

This  mandate,  which  had  been  delivered  with  great  ma- 
jesty, was  obeyed  without  the  slightest  demur  ;  and  Char- 
lotte made  the  best  of  her  way  off  with  the  packages  while 
Noah  held  the  door  open  and  watched  her  out. 

"  She's  kept  tolerably  well  under,  ain't  she  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat,  in  the  tone  of  a  keeper  who  has  tamed 
some  wild  animal. 

"Quite  perfect,"  rejoined  Fagin,  clapping  him  on  the 
shoulder.     "You're  a  genius,  my  dear." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  if  I  wasn't  1  shouldn't  be  here,"  replied 
Noah.     "  But,  I  say,  she'll  be  back  if  yer  lose  time." 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  ?  "  said  Fagin.  "  If  you  was  fo 
like  my  friend,  could  you  do  better  than  join  him  ?  " 

"  Is  he  in  a  good  way  of  business  :  that's  where  it  is  !  " 
responded  Noah,  winking  one  of  his  little  eyes. 

The  top  of  the  tree  ;  employs  a  power  of  hands  ;    has 
the  very  best  society  in  the  profession." 

"  Regular  town-maders  ? "  asked  Mr.  Clay  pole. 


326  OLIVER  TWIST. 

.  "  Not  a  countryman  among  'em  ;  and  I  don't  think  he'd 
take  you,  even  on  my  recommendation,  if  he  didn't  run 
rather  short  of  assistants  just  now,"  replied  Fagin. 

"Should  I  have  to  hand  over?"  said  Noah,  slapping  his 
breeches  pocket. 

"  It  couldn't  possibly  be  done  without,"  replied  Fagin,  in 
a  most  decided  manner. 

*"  Twenty  pound,  though — it's  a  lot  of  money  !  " 

"  Not  when  it's  in  a  note  you  can't  get  rid  of,"  retorted 
Fagin.  "  Number  and  date  taken,  I  suppose  ?  Payment  stop- 
ped at  the  bank  ?  Ah  !  It's  not  worth  much  to  him.  It'll 
have  to  go  abroad,  and  he  couldn't  sell  it  for  a  great  deal  in 
the  market." 

"When  could  I  see  him  ?"  asked  Noah,  doubtfully. 

"To-morrow  morning." 

"Where?" 

"  Here  !  " 

"  Urn  !  "  said  Noah.     "  What's  the  wages  ?  " 

"  Live  like  a  gentleman — board  and  lodging,  pipes  and 
spirits  free — half  of  all  you  earn,  and  half  of  all  the  young 
woman  earns,"  replied  Mr.  Fagin. 

Whether  Noah  Claypole,  whose  rapacity  was  none  of  the 
least  comprehensive,  would  have  acceded  even  to  these 
glowing  terms,  had  he  been  a  perfectly  free  agent,  is  very 
doubtful ;  but  as  he  recollected  that,  in  the  event  of  his  re- 
fusal, it  was  in  the  power  of  his  new  acquaintance  to  give 
him  up  to  justice  immediately  (and  more  unlikely  things  had 
come  to  pass),  he  gradually  relented,  and  said  he  thought 
that  would  suit  him. 

"  But,  yer  see,"  observed  Noah,  "  as  she  will  be  able 
to  do  a  great  deal,  I  should  like  to  take  something  very 
light." 

"  A  little  fancy  work  ?  "  suggested  Fagin. 

"Ah  I  something  of  that  sort,"  replied  Noah.  "  What  do 
you  think  would  suit  me,  now  ?  Something  not  too  trying 
for  the  strength,  and  not  very  dangerous,  you  know.  That's 
the  sort  of  thing  !  " 

"  I  heard  you  talk  of  something  in  the  spy  way  upon  the 
others,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin.  "  My  friend  wants  somebody 
who  would  do  that  well,  very  much." 

"  Why,  I  did  mention  that,  and  I  shouldn't  mind  turning 
my  hand  to  it  sometimes,"  rejoined  Mr.  Claypole,  slowly  ; 
"but  it  wouldn't  pay  by  itself,  you  know." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  327 

"  That's  true  !  "  observed  the  Jew,  ruminating,  or  pre- 
tending to  ruminate.     "  No,  it  might  not." 

"  What  do  you  think,  then  ?  "  asked  Noah,  anxiously  re- 
garding him.  "  Something  in  the  sneaking  way,  where  it 
was  pretty  sure  work,  and  not  much  more  risk  than  being  at 
home." 

"  What  do  you  thkik  of  the  old  ladies  ?"  asked  Fagin. 
"  There's  a  good  deal  of  money  made  in  snatching  their 
bags  and  parcels  and  running  round  the  corner." 

•  Don't  they  holler  out  a  good  deal,  and  scratch  some- 
times ? "  asked  Noah,  shaking  his  head.  "  I  don't  think 
that  would  answer  my  purpose.  Ain't  there  any  other  line 
open  ? " 

"Stop!"  said  Fagin,  laying  his  hand  on  Noah's  knee. 
"  The  kinchen  lay." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Claypole. 

"The  kinchins,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin,  "is  the  young  chil- 
dren that's  sent  on  errands  by  their  mothers  with  sixpences 
and  shillings  ;  and  the  lay  is  just  to  take  their  money  away 
—they've  always  got  it  ready  in  their  hands — then  knock 
'em  into  the  kennel,  and  walk  off  very  slow,  as  if  there  were 
nothing  else  the  matter  but  a  child  fallen  down  and  hurt  it- 
self.    Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  roared  Mr.  Claypole,  kicking  up  his  legs  in 
an  ecstasy.     "  Lord,  that's  the  very  thing  !  " 

"  To  be  sure  it  is,"  replied  Fagin  ;  "  and  you  can  have  a 
few  good  beats  chalked  out  in  Camden  Town,  and  Battle 
Bridge,  and  neighborhoods  like  that,  where  they're  always 
going  errands  ;  and  you  can  upset  as  many  kinchens  as  you 
want,  any  hour  in  the  day.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

With  this,  Fagin  poked  Mr.  Claypole  in  the  side,  and  they 
joined  in  a  burst  of  laughter  both  long  and  loud. 

"  Well,  that's  all  right  !  "  said  Noah,  when  he  had  recov- 
ered himself,  and  Charlotte  had  returned.  "  What  time  to- 
morrow shall  we  say  ?  " 

"  Will  ten  do  ?  "  asked  Fagin,  adding,  as  Mr.  Claypole 
nodded  assent,  "  What  name  shall  I  tell  my  good  friend  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Bolter,"  replied  Noah,  who  had  prepared  himself 
for  such  an  emergency.  "  Morris  Bolter.  This  is  Mrs.  Bol- 
ter." 

"  Mrs.  Bolter's  humble  servant,"  said  Fagin,  bowing  with 
grotesque  politeness.  "  I  hope  I  shall  know  her  better  very 
shortly." 


328  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  gentleman,  Charlotte  ? "  thundered 
Mr.  Claypole. 

"  Yes,  Noah  dear ! "  responded  Mrs.  Bolter,  extending 
her  hand. 

"  She  calls  me  Noah,  as  a  sort  of  fond  way  of  talking," 
said  Mr.  Morris  Bolter,  late  Claypole,  turning  to  Fagin. 
"  You  understand  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  understand — perfectly,"  replied  Fagin,  telling 
the  truth  for  once.     "  Good-night  !  Good-night  !  " 

With  many  adieus  and  good  wishes,  Mr.  Fagin  went  his 
way.  Noah  Claypole,  bespeaking  his  good  lady's  attention, 
proceeded  to  enlighten  her  relative  to  the  arrangement  he 
had  made  with  all  that  haughtinesss  and  air  of  superiority 
becoming,  not  only  a  member  of  the  sterner  sex,  but  a  gen- 
tleman who  appreciated  the  dignity  of  a  special  appoint- 
ment on  the  kinchin  lay  in  London  and  its  vicinity. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

WHEREIN    IS   SHOWN    HOW    THE    ARTFUL   DODGER   GOT  INTO 
TROUBLE. 

"And  so  it  was  you  that  was  your  own  friend,  was  it  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Claypole,  otherwise  Bolter,  when,  by  virtue  of 
the  compact  entered  into  between  them,  he  had  removed 
next  day  to  Fagin's  house,  "  'Cod,  I  thought  as  much  last 
night !  " 

"  Every  man's  his  own  friend,  my  dear,"  replied  Fagin, 
with  his  most  insinuating  grin.  "  He  hasn't  as  good  an  one 
as  himself  any  where." 

"*  Except  sometimes,"  replied  Morris  Bolter,  assuming  the 
air  of  a  man  of  the  world.  "  Some  people  are  nobody's  en- 
emies but  their  own,  yer  know." 

"  Don't  believe  that,"  said  Fagin.  "  When  a  man's  his 
own  enemy,  it's  only  because  he's  too  much  his  own  friend  ; 
not  because  he's  careful  for  every  body  but  himself.  Pooh  I 
pooh  !  There  ain't  such  a  thing  in  nature." 

"  There  oughtn't  to  be,  if  there  is,"  replied  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  That  stands  to  reason.  Some  conjurers  say  that  num- 
ber three  is  the  magic  number,  and  some  say  number  seven. 
It's  neither,  my  friend,  neither.     It's  number  one." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  329 

*  Ha  !  ha  !  "  cried  Bolter.     u  Number  one  forever  !  " 

"  In  a  little  community  like  ours,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin, 
who  felt  it  necessary  to  qualify  this  position,  "we  have  a 
general  number  one  ;  that  is,  you  can't  consider  yourself 
as  number  one,  without  considering  me  too  as  the  same,  and 
all  the  other  young  people." 

"  Oh,  the  devil  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  You  see,"  pursued  Fagin,  affecting  to  disregard  this  in- 
terruption, "  we  are  so  mixed  up  together,  and  identified  in 
our  interests,  that  it  must  be  so.  For  instance,  it's  your  ob- 
ject to  take  care  of  number  one — meaning  yourself." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Bolter.     "  Yer  about  right  there." 

"  Well  !  You  can't  take  care  of  yourself,  number  one,  with- 
out taking  care  of  me,  number  one." 

M  Number  two,  you  mean,"  said  Mr.  Bolter,  who  was 
largely  endowed  with  the  quality  of  selfishness. 

No,  I  don't  !  "  retorted  Fagin.     "  I'm  of  the  same  im- 
portance to  you,  as  you  are  to  yourself." 

"  I  say,"  interrupted  Mr.  Bolter,  "  yer  a  very  nice  man,, 
and  I'm  very  fond  of  yer  ;  but  we  ain't  quite  so  thick  to- 
gether as  all  that  comes  to." 

"  Only  think,"  said  Fagin,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and 
stretching  out  his  hands,  "  only  consider.  You've  done 
what's  a  very  pretty  thing,  and  what  I  love  you  for  doing  ; 
but  what  at  the  same  time  would  put  the  cravat  round  your 
throat,  that's  so  very  easily  tied  and  so  very  difficult  to  un- 
loose— in  plain  English,  the  halter  !  " 

Mr.  Bolter  put  his  hand  to  his  neckerchief,  as  if  he  felt  it 
inconveniently  tight,  and  murmured  an  assent,  qualified  in 
tone  but  not  in  substance. 

"  The  gallows,"  continued  Fagin,  "the  gallows,  my  dear, 
is  an  ugly  finger-post,  which  points  out  a  very  short  and 
sharp  turning  that  has  stopped  many  a  bold  fellow's  career 
on  the  broad  highway.  To  keep  in  the  easy  road,  and  keep 
it  at  a  distance,  is  object  number  one  with  you." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  replied  Mr  Bolter.  "What  do  yer  talk 
about  such  things  for  ?  " 

"  Only  to  show  you  my  meaning  clearly,"  said  the  Jew, 
raising  his  eyebrows.  "  To  be  able  to  do  that,  you  depend 
upon  me.  To  keep  my  little  business  all  snug,  I  depend 
upon  you.  The  first  is  your  number  one,  the  second  my 
number  one.  The  more  you  value  your  number  one,  the 
more  careful  you  must  be  of  mine  ;    so  we  come  at  last  to 


33o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

what  I  told  you  at  first — that  a  regard  for  number  one  holds 
us  altogether,  and  must  do  so,  unless  we  would  all  go  to 
pieces  in  company." 

"  That's  true,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bolter,  thoughtfully.  "  Oh  ! 
yer  a  cunning  old  codger." 

Mr.  Fagin  saw,  with  delight,  that  this  tribute  to  his  pow- 
ers was  no  mere  compliment,  but  that  he  had  really  im- 
pressed his  recruit  with  a  sense  of  his  wily  genius,  which  it 
was  most  important  that  he  should  entertain  in  the  outset 
of  their  acquaintance.  To  strengthen  an  impression  so 
desirable  and  useful,  he  followed  up  the  blow  by  acquaint- 
ing him,  in  some  detail,  with  the  magnitude  and  extent  of 
his  operations,  blending  truth  and  fiction  together,  as  best 
served  his  purpose,  and  bringing  both  to  bear  with  so  much 
art  that  Mr.  .Bolter's  respect  visibly  increased,  and  became 
tempered,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  degree  of  wholesome 
fear  which  it  was  highly  desirable  to  awaken. 

"  It's  this  mutual  trust  we  have  in  each  other  that  consoles 
me  under  heavy  losses,"  said  Fagin.  "  My  best  hand  was 
taken  from  me  yesterday  morning." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  died  ? "  cried  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Fagin,  "not  so  bad  as  that.  Not  quite 
so  bad." 

"  What ;  I  suppose  he  was — " 

"Wanted,"  interposed  Fagin.     "Yes,  he  was  wanted." 

"Very  particular?"  inquired  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  No,"  replied  Fagin,  "  not  very.  He  was  charged  with 
attempting  to  pick  a  pocket,  and  they  found  a  silver  snuff- 
box on  him — his  own,  my  dear,  his  own,  for  he  took  snuff 
himself,  and  was  very  fond  of  it.  They  remanded  him  till 
to-day,  for  they  thought  they  knew  the  owner.  Ah  !  he 
was  worth  fifty  boxes,  and  I'd  give  the  price  of  as  many  to 
have  him  back.  You  should  have  known  the  Dodger,  my 
dear  ;  you  should  have  known  the  Dodger." 

"  Well,  but  I  shall  know  him,  I  hope  ;  don't  yer  think 
so  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bolter. 

"I'm  doubtful  about  it,"  replied  Fagin,  with  a  sigh.  "If 
they  don't  get  any  fresh  evidence,  it'll  only  be  a  summary 
conviction,  and  we  shall  have  him  back  again  after  six 
weeks  or  so  ;  but  if  they  do,  it's  a  case  of  lagging.  They 
know  what  a  clever  lad  he  is,  he'll  be  a  lifer.  They'll  make 
the  Artful  nothing  less  than  a  lifer." 

"  What  do  yer  mean  by  lagging  and  a  lifer  ?  "    demanded 


OLIVER  TWIST.  331 

Mr.  Bolter.  "  What's  the  good  of  talking  in  that  way  to 
me  ;  why  don't  yer  speak  so  as  I  can  understand  yer  ?  " 

Fagin  was  about  to  translate  these  mysterious  expressions 
into  the  vulgar  tongue  ;  and,  being  interpreted,  Mr.  Bolter 
would  have  been  informed  that  they  represented  that  com- 
bination of  words,  "  transportation  for  life,"  when  the  dia- 
logue was  cut  short  by  the  entry  of  Master  Bates,  with  his 
hands  in  his  breeches-pockets,  and  his  face  twisted  into  a 
look  of  semi-comical  woe. 

"  It's  all  up,  Fagin,"  said  Charley,  when  he  and  his  new 
companion  had  been  made  known  to  each  other. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"They've  found  the  gentleman  as  owns  the  box  ;  two  or 
three  more's  a-coming  to  'dentify  him  ;  and  the  Artful's 
booked  for  a  passage  out,"  replied  Master  Bates.  "  I  must 
have  a  full  suit  of  mourning,  Fagin,  and  a  hat-band,  to  wisit 
him  in  afore  he  sets  out  upon  his  travels.  To  think  of 
Jack  Dawkins — lummy  Jack — the  Dodger — the  Artful  Dod- 
ger— going  abroad  for  a  common  twopenny-half-penny 
sneeze-box  !  I  never  thought  he'd  a  done  it  under  a  gold 
watch,  chain  and  seals,  at  the  lowest.  Oh,  why  didn't  he 
rob  some  rich  old  gentleman  of  all  his  walables,  and  go  out 
as  a  gentleman,  and  not  like  a  common  prig,  without  no 
honor  nor  glory  !  " 

With  this  expression  of  feeling  for  his  unfortunate  friend 
Master  Bates  sat  himself  on  the  nearest  chair  with  an  aspect 
of  chagrin  and  despondency. 

"  What  do  you  talk  about  his  having  neither  honor  nor 
glory  for  !  "  exclaimed  Fagin,  darting  an  angry  look  at  his 
pupil.  "  Wasn't  he  always  top-sawyer  among  you  all  ?  Is 
there  one  of  you  that  could  touch  him  or  come  near  him  on 
any  scent !  Eh  ?  " 

"  Not  one,"  replied  Master  Bates,  in  a  voice  rendered 
husky  by  regret  ;  "  not  one." 

"  Then  what  do  you  talk  of  ? "  replied  Fagin,  angrily  ; 
"  what  are  you  blubbering  for  ?  " 

"  'Cause  it  isn't  on  the  rec-ord,  is  it  ?  "  said  Charley, 
chafed  into  perfect  defiance  of  his  venerable  friend  by  the 
current  of  his  regrets  ;  "  'cause  it  can't  come  out  in  the 
'dictment  ;  'cause  nobody  will  never  know  half  of  what  he 
was.  How  will  he  stand  in  the  Newgate  Calendar  ?  P'raps 
not  be  there  at  all.     Oh,  my  eye,  my  eye,  wot  a  blow  it  is  !" 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  cried  Fagin,  extending  his  right  hand,  and 


332  OLIVER  TWIST. 

turning  to  Mr.  Bolter  in  a  fit  of  chuckling  which  shook  him 
as  though  he  had  the  palsy  ;  "  see  what  a  pride  they  take  in 
their  profession,  my  dear.     Ain't  it  beautiful  ?" 

Mr.  Bolter  nodded  assent ;  and  Fagin,  after  contemplat- 
ing the  grief  of  Charley  Bates  for  some  seconds  with  evident 
satisfaction,  stepped  up  to  that  young  gentleman  and  patted 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Never  mind,  Charley,"  said  Fagin.  soothingly;  "it'll 
come  out,  it'll  be  sure  to  come  out.  They'll  all  know  what 
a  clever  fellow  he  was  ;  he'll  show  it  himself,  and  not  dis 
grace  his  old  pals' and  teachers.  Think  how  young  he  is 
too  !  What  a  distinction,  Charley,  to  be  lagged  at  his  time 
of  life  !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  honor,  that  is  !  "  said  Charley,  a  little  con- 
soled. 

"  He  shall  have  all  he  wants,"  continued  the  Jew.  "  He 
shall  be  kept  in  the  Stone  Jug,  Charley,  like  a  gentleman  ! 
With  his  beer  every  day,  and  money  in  his  pocket  to  pitch 
and  toss  with,  if  he  can't  spend  it." 

"  No,  shall  he,  though  ?  "  cried  Charley  Bates. 

"  Ay,  that  he  shall,"  replied  Fagin,  "  and  we'll  have  a 
big-wig,  Charley — one  that's  got  the  greatest  gift  of  the  gab 
— to  carry  on  his  defense  ;  and  he  shall  make  a  speech  for 
himself  too,  if  he  likes  ;  and  we'll  read  it  all  in  the  papers 
— '  Artful  Dodger — shrieks  of  laughter — here  the  court  was 
convulsed  ■ — eh,  Charley,  eh  ?  " 

u  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  Master  Bates,  "  what  a  lark  that 
v/ould  be,  wouldn't  it,  Fagin  ?  I  say,  how  the  Artful  would 
bother  'em,  wouldn't  he  ?  " 

"  Would  !  "  cried  Fagin.     "  He  shall— he  will  !  " 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,  so  he  will,"  repeated  Charley,  rubbing 
his  hands. 

"  I  think  I  see  him  now  ! "  cried  the  Jew,  bending  his 
eyes  upon  his  pupil. 

"  So  do  I  !  "  cried  Charley  Bates.  "Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  so 
do  I  !  I  see  it  all  afore  me,  upon  my  soul  I  do,  Fagin. 
What  a  regular  game  !  All  the  big-wigs  trying  to  look  sol- 
emn, and  Jack  Dawkins  addressing  of  'em  as  intimate  and 
comfortable  as  if  he  was  the  judge's  own  son  making  a 
speech  arter  dinner — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

In  fact,  Mr.  Fagin  had  so  well  humored  his  young  friend's 
eccentric  disposition,  that  Master  Bates,  who  had  at  first 
been  disposed  to  consider  the  imprisoned  Dodger  rather  in 


OLIVER  TWIST.  333 

the  light  of  a  victim,  now  looked  upon  him  as  the  chief 
actor  in  a  scene  of  most  uncommon  and  exquisite  humor, 
and  felt  quite  impatient  for  the  arrival  of  the  time  when  his 
old  companion  should  have  so  favorable  an  opportunity  of 
displaying  his  abilities. 

"  We  must  know  how  he  gets  on  to-day,  by  some  handy 
means  or  other,"  said  Fagin.     "  Let  me  think." 
''  Shall  I  go  ?  "  asked  Charley. 

"  Not  for  the  world,"  replied  Fagin.  "  Are  you  mad,  my 
dear,  stark  mad,  that  you'd  walk  into  the  very  place  where 
— No,  Charley,  no.     One  is  enough  to  lose  at  a  time." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  go  yourself,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
Charley,  with  a  humorous  leer. 

"That  wouldn't  quite  fit,"  replied  Fagin,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  send  this  new  cove  ? "  asked 
Master  Bates,  laying  his  hand  on  Noah's  arm.  "  Nobody 
knows  him." 

"Why,  if  he  didn't  mind — "  observed  Fagin. 
"  Mind  1  "    interposed  Charley.      "  What   should  he  have 
to  mind  ?" 

"  Really  nothing,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin,  turning  to  Mr. 
Bolter,  "  really  nothing." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  about  that,  yer  know,"  observed  Noah, 
backing  toward  the  door,  and  shaking  his  head  with  a  kind 
of  sober  alarm.  "  No,  no — none  of  that.  It's  not  in  my 
department,  that  ain't." 

"Wot  department  has  he  got,  Fagin  ?  "  inquired  Master 
Bates,  surveying  Noah's  lank  form  with  much  disgust. 
"  The  cutting  away  when  there's  any  thing  wrong,  and  the 
eating  all  the  wittles  when  there's  every  thing  right  ;  is  that 
his  branch  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  retorted  Mr.  Bolter  ;  "  and  don't  yer 
take  liberties  with  yer  superiors,  little  boy,  or  yer'll  find 
yerself  in  the  wrong  shop." 

Master  Bates  laughed  so  vehemently  at  this  magnificent 
threat,  that  it  was  some  time  before  Fagin  could  interpose, 
and  represent  to  Mr.  Bolter  that  he  incurred  no  possible 
danger  in  visiting  the  police-office  ;  that  inasmuch  as  no 
account  of  the  little  affair  in  which  he  had  been  engaged, 
nor  any  description  of  his  person,  had  yet  been  forwarded 
to  the  metropolis,  it  was  very  probable  that  he  was  not  even 
suspected  of  having  resorted  to  it  for  shelter  ;  and  that  if  he 


334  OLIVER  TWIST. 

were  properly  disguised,  it  would  be  as  safe  a  spot  for  him 
to  visit  as  any  in  London,  inasmuch  as  it  would  be,  of  all 
places,  the  very  last  to  which  he  could  be  supposed  likely  to 
resort  of  his  own  free  will. 

Persuaded  in  part  by  these  representations,  but  overborne 
in  a  much  greater  degree  by  his  fear  of  Fagin,  Mr.  Bolter  at 
length  consented,  with  a  very  bad  grace,  to  undertake  the 
expedition.  By  Fagin's  directions,  he  immediately  substi- 
tuted for  his  own  attire  a  wagoner's  frock,  velveteen 
breeches,  and  leather  leggings,  all  of  which  articles  the  Jew 
had  at  hand.  He  was  likewise  furnished  with  a  felt  hat  well 
garnished  with  turnpike  tickets,  and  a  carter's  whip.  Thus 
equipped,  he  was  to  saunter  into  the  office,  as  some  country 
fellow  from  Covent  Garden  market  might  be  supposed  to  do 
for  the  gratification  of  his  curiosity  ;  and  as  he  was  as  awk- 
ward, ungainly,  and  raw-boned  a  fellow  as  need  be,  Mr. 
Fagin  had  no  fear  but  that  he  would  look  the  part  to  per- 
fection. 

These  arrangements  completed,  he  was  informed  of  the 
necessary  signs  and  tokens  by  which  to  recognize  the  Artful 
Dodger,  and  was  conveyed  by  Master  Bates  through  dark 
and  winding  ways  to  within  a  very  short  distance  of  Bow 
Street.  Having  described  the  precise  situation  of  the  office, 
and  accompanied  it  with  copious  directions  how  he  was  to 
walk  straight  up  the  passage,  and  when  he  got  into  the  yard 
take  the  door  up  the  steps  on  the  right-hand  side,  and  pull 
off  his  hat  as  he  went  into  the  room,  Charley  Bates  bade 
him  hurry  on  alone,  and  promised  to  bide  his  return  on  the 
spot  of  their  parting. 

Noah  Claypole,  or  Morris  Bolter,  as  the  reader  pleases, 
punctually  followed  the  directions  he  had  received,  which — 
Master  Bates  being  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  locality 
— were  so  exact  that  he  was  enabled  to  gain  the  magisterial 
presence  without  asking  any  question,  or  meeting  with  any 
interruption  by  the  way.  He  found  himself  jostled  among 
a  crowd  of  people,  chiefly  women,  who  were  huddled  to- 
gether in  a  dirty,  frowsy  room,  at  the  upper  end  of  which 
was  a  raised  platform  railed  off  from  the  rest,  with  a  dock 
for  the  prisoners  on  the  left  hand  against  the  wall,  a  box  for 
the  witness  in  the  middle,  and  a  desk  for  the  magistrates  on 
the  right  ;  the  awful  locality  last  named  being  screened  off 
by  a  partition  which  concealed  the  bench  from  the  common 
gaze,  and  left  the  vulgar  to  imagine  (if  they  could)  the  full 
majesty  of  justice. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  335 

There  were  only  a  couple  of  women  in  the  dock,  who  were 
nodding  to  their  admiring  friends,  while  the  clerk  read  some 
depositions  to  a  couple  of  policemen  and  a  man  in  plain 
clothes  who  leaned  over  the  table.  A  jailer  stood  reclining 
against  the  dock-rail,  tapping  his  nose  listlessly  with  a  large 
key,  except  when  he  repressed  an  undue  tendency  to  conversa- 
tion among  the  idlers  by  proclaiming  silence,  or  looked 
sternly  up  to  bid  some  woman  "  Take  that  baby  out,"  when 
the  gravity  of  justice  was  disturbed  by  feeble  cries,  half- 
smothered  in  the  mother's  shawl,  from  some  meager  infant. 
The  room  smelled  close  and  unwholesome  ;  the  walls  were 
dirt-discolored,  and  the  ceiling  blackened.  There  was  an  old 
smoky  bust  over  the  mantel-shelf,  and  a  dusty  clock  above 
the  dock — the  only  thing  present  that  seemed  to  go  on  as  it 
ought  ;  for  depravity,  or  poverty,  or  an  habitual  acquaint- 
ance with  both,  had  left  a  taint  on  all  the  animate  matter, 
hardly  less  unpleasant  than  the  thick,  greasy  scum  on  every 
inanimate  object  that  frowned  upon  it. 

Noah  looked  eagerly  about  him  for  the  Dodger  ;  but  al- 
though there  were  several  women  who  would  have  done  well 
for  that  distinguished  character's  mother  or  sister,  and  more 
than  one  man  who  might  be  supposed  to  bear  a  strong  re- 
semblance to  his  father,  nobody  at  all  answering  the  de- 
scription given  him  of  Mr.  Dawkins  was  to  be  seen.  He 
waited  in  a  state  of  much  suspense  and  uncertainty  until  the 
women,  being  committed  for  trial,  went  flaunting  out,  and 
then  was  quickly  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  another 
prisoner  who  he  felt  at  once  could  be  none  other  than  the 
object  of  his  visit. 

It  was  indeed  Mr.  Dawkins,  who,  shuffling  into  the  office 
with  his  big  coat  sleeves  tucked  up  as  usual,  his  left  hand  in 
his  pocket,  and  his  hat  in  his  right  hand,  preceded  the  jailer 
with  a  rolling  gait  altogether  indescribable,  and,  taking  his 
place  in  the  dock,  requested,  in  an  audible  voice,  to  know 
what  he  was  placed  in  that  'ere  disgraceful  sitivation  for. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  jailer. 

"  I'm  an  Englishman,  ain't  I  ? "  rejoined  the  Dodger. 
"  Where  are  my  priwileges  ?  " 

"You'll  get  your  privileges  soon  enough,"  retorted  the 
jailer,  "and  pepper  with  'em." 

"  We'll  see  wot  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home  Affairs 
has  got  to  say  to  the  beaks,  if  I  don't,"  replied  Mr.  Dawkins. 
"  Now  then  !  wot  is  this  here  business  ?     I  shall  .thank  the 


336  OLIVER  TWIST. 

madg'strates  to  dispose  of  this  here  little  affair,  and  not  to 
keep  me  while  they  read  the  paper,  for  I've  got  an  appointment 
with  a  gentleman  in  the  City  ;  and  as  I'm  a  man  of  my  word, 
and  wery  punctual  in  business  matters,  he'll  go  away  if  1 
ain't  there  on  time,  and  then  p'r'aps  there  won't  be  an  action 
for  damage  against  them  as  kep  me  away.  Oh  no,  certainly 
not  !  " 

At  this  point,  the  Dodger,  with  a  show  of  being  very  particu- 
lar with  a  view  to  proceedings  to  be  had  thereafter,  desired 
the  jailer  to  communicate  "  the  names  of  them  two  files  as 
was  on  the  bench  ;  "  which  so  tickled  the  spectators  that 
they  laughed  almost  as  heartily  as  Master  Bates  could  have 
done  if  he  had  heard  the  request. 

"  Silence  there  !  "  cried  the  jailer. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  inquired  one  of  the  .magistrates. 

"  A  pick-pocketing  case,  your  worship." 

"  Has  the  boy  ever  been  here  before  ?  " 

"  He  ought  to  have  been  a  many  times,"  replied  the  jailer. 
"He  has  been  pretty  well  every  where  else,  /know  him 
well,  your  worship." 

"  Oh  !  you  know  me,  do  you  ?  "  cried  the  Artful,  making  a 
note  of  the  statement.  "  Wery  good.  That's  a  case  of  de- 
formation of  character,  any  way." 

Here  there  was  another  laugh,  and  another  cry  of 
silence. 

"  Now,  then,  where  are  the  witnesses  ? "  said  the  clerk. 

"Ah!  that's  right,"  added  the  Dodger.  "Where  are 
they  ?  I  should  like  to  see  'em." 

This  wish  was  immediately  gratified,  for  a  policeman 
stepped  forward  who  had  seen  the  prisoner  attempt 
the  pocket  of  an  unknown  gentleman  in  a  crowd,  and, 
indeed,  take  a  handkerchief  therefrom,  which,  being'  a 
very  old  one,  he  deliberately  put  back  again  after  try- 
ing it  on  his  own  countenance.  For  this  reason  he  took 
the  Dodger  into  custody  as  soon  as  he  could  get  near  him, 
and  the  said  Dodger,  being  searched,  had  upon  his  person  a 
silver  snuff-box,  with  the  owner's  name  engraved  upon  the 
lid.  This  gentleman  had  been  discovered  on  reference  to 
the  Court  Guide  ;  and  being  then  and  there  present,  swore 
that  the  snuff-box  was  his,  and  that  he  had  missed  it  on  the 
previous  day,  the  moment  he  had  disengaged  himself  from 
the  crowd  before  referred  to.  He  had  also  remarked  a 
young  gentleman  in  the  throng  particularly  active  in  making 


OLIVER  TWIST.  337 

hij  way  about,  and  that  young  gentleman  was  the  prisoner 
before  him. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  'o  ask  the  witness,  boy  ?  "  said  the 
magistrate. 

"  I  wouldn't  abase  myself  by  descending  to  hold  no  con- 
versation with  him,"  replied  the  Dodger. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  to  say  at  all  ? " 

"  Do  you  hear  his  worship  ask  if  you've  any  thing  to  say  ?  " 
inquired  the  jailer,  nudging  the  silent  Dodger  with  his  elbow. 

"  I  beg  yf>ur  pardon,"  said  the  Dodger,  looking  up  with 
an  air  of  abstraction.  "  Did  you  redress  yourself  to  me,  my 
man  ? " 

11 1  never  see  such  an  out-and-out  young  wagabond,  your 
worship,"  observed  the  officer,  with  a  grin.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  say  any  thing,  you  young  shaver  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  Dodger,  "  not  here,  for  this  ain't  the 
shop  for  justice  ;  besides  which,  my  attorney  is  a-breakfast- 
ing  this  morning  with  the  Wice-president  of  the  House  of 
Commons  ;  but  I  shall  have  something  to  say  elsewhere,  and 
so  will  he,  and  so  will  a  wery  numerous  and  'spectable 
circle  of  acquaintance  as'll  make  them  beaks  wish  they'd 
never  been  born,  or  that  they'd  got  their  footmen  to  hang  'em 
up  to  their  own  hat-pegs  'afore  they  let  'em  come  out  this 
morning  to  try  it  upon  me.     I'll — " 

"  There  !  He's  fully  committed  !  "  interposed  the  clerk. 
"  Take  him  away." 

"  Come  on,"  said  t^e  jailer. 

"  Oh,  ah  !  I'll  come  on,"  replied  the  Dodger,  brushing 
his  hat  with  the  palm  of  his  hand.  "  Ah  !  (to  the  Bench) 
it's  no  use  your  looking  frightened  ;  I  won't  show  you  no 
mercy,  not  a  ha'porth  on  it.  You  11  pay  for  this,  my  fine 
fellers.  I  wouldn't  be  you  for  something.  I  wouldn't  go 
free,  now,  if  you  was  to  fall  down  on  your  knees  and  ask  me. 
Here,  carry  me  off  to  prison  !     Take  me  away  !  " 

With  these  last  words,  the  Dodger  suffered  himself  to  be 
led  off  by  the  collar,  threatening,  till  he  got  into  the  yard,  to 
make  a  parliamentary  business  of  it,  and  then  grinning  in  the 
officer's  face  with  great  glee  and  self-approval. 

Having  seen  him  locked  up  by  himself  in  a  little  cell,  Noah 
made  the  best  of  his  way  back  to  where  he  had  left  Master 
Bates.  After  waiting  here  some  time,  he  was  joined  by  that 
young  gentleman,  who  had  prudently  abstained  from  showing 
himself  until  he  had  looked  carefully  abroad  from  a  snug 


333  OLIVER  TWIST. 

retreat  and  ascertained  that  his  new  friend  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed by  any  impertinent  person. 

The  two  hastened  back  together,  to  bear  to  Mr.  Fagin  the 
animating  news  that  the  Dodger  was  doing  full  justice  to 
his  bringing  up,  and  establishing  for  himself  a  glorious  rep- 
utation. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE    TIME    ARRIVES    FOR    NANCY    TO    REDEEM     HER     PLEDGE 
TO    ROSE    MAYLIE.       SHE    FAILS. 

Adept  as  she  was  in  all  the  arts  of  cunning  and  dissimu- 
lation, the  girl  Nancy  could  not  wholly  conceal  the  effect 
which  the  knowledge  of  the  step  she  had  taken  wrought 
upon  her  mind.  She  remembered  that  both  the  crafty  Jew 
and  the  brutal  Sikes  had  confided  to  her  schemes  which  had 
been  hidden  from  all  others,  in  the  full  confidence  that  she 
was  trustworthy,  and  beyond  all  reach  of  their  suspicion. 
Vile  as  those  schemes  were,  desperate  as  were  their  originators 
and  bitter  as  were  her  feelings  toward  Fagin,  who  had  led 
her,  step  by  step,  deeper  -nd  deeper  down  into  the  abyss  of 
crime  and  misery  whence  was  no  escape,  still  there  were 
times  when,  even  toward  him,  she  felt  some  relenting  lest  her 
disclosure  should  bring  him  within  the  iron  grasp  he  had  so 
long  eluded,  and  he  should  fall  at  last — richly  as  he  merited 
such  a  fate — by  her  hand. 

But  these  were  the  wanderings  of  a  mind  unable  wholly 
to  detach  itself  from  old  companions  and  associations,  though 
enabled  to  fix  itself  steadily  on  one  object,  and  resolved  not 
to  be  turned  aside  by  any  consideration.  Her  fears  for  Sikes 
would  have  been  more  powerful  inducements  to  recoil  while 
there  was  yet  time,  but  she  had  stipulated  that  her  secret 
should  be  rigidly  kept ;  she  had  dropped  no  clue  which  could 
lead  to  his  discovery ;  she  had  refused,  even  for  his  sake,  a 
refuge  from  all  the  guilt  and  wretchedness  that  encompassed 
her — and  what  more  could  she  do  !     She  was  resolved. 

Though  all  her  mental  struggles  terminated  in  this  con- 
clusion, they  forced  themselves  upon  her  again  and  again, 
and  left  their  traces  too.  She  grew  pale  and  thin,  even 
within  a  few  days.     At  times  she  took  no  heed  of  what  was 


OLIVER  TWIST.  339 

passing  before  her,  or  no  part  in  conversations  where  once 
she  would  have  been  the  loudest.  At  other  times  she  laughed 
without  merriment,  and  was  noisy  without  cause  or  meaning. 
At  others — often  within  a  moment  afterward — she  sat  silent 
and  dejected,  brooding  with  her  head  upon  her  hands,  while 
the  very  effort  by  which  she  roused  herself  told,  more  forcibly 
than  even  these  indications,  that  she  was  ill  at  ease,  and  that 
her  thoughts  were  occupied  with  matters  very  different  and 
distant  from  those  in  course  of  discussion  by  her  companions. 

It  was  Sunday  night,  and  the  bell  of  the  nearest  church 
struck  the  hour.  Sikes  and  the  Jew  were  talking,  but  they 
paused  to  listen.  The  girl  looked  up  from  the  low  seat  on 
which  she  crouched  and  listened,  too.     Eleven. 

u  An  hour  this  side  of  midnight,"  said  Sikes,  raising  the 
blind  to  look  out,  and  returning  to  his  seat.  "  Dark  and 
heavy  it  is  too.     A  good  night  for  business  this." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Fagin.  What  a  pity,  Bill,  my  dear,  that 
there's  none  quite  ready  to  be  done." 

■  •  You're  right  for  once,"  replied  Sikes,  gruffly.  "  It  is  a 
pity,  for  I'm  in  the  humor,  too." 

Fagin  sighed  and  shook  his  head  despondingly. 

"  We  must  make  up  for  lost  time  when  we've  got  things 
into  a  good  train.     That's  all  I  know,"  said  Sikes. 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,  my  dear,"  replied  Fagin,  ventur- 
ing to  pat  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  It  does  me  good  to  hear 
you." 

"  Does  you  good,  does  it  ! "  cried  Sikes.  "  Well,  so 
be  it." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  Fagin,  as  if  he  were  relieved  by 
even  this  concession.  "  You're  like  yourself  to-night,  Bill  ! 
Quite  like  yourself." 

u  I  don't  feel  like  myself  when  you  lay  that  withered  old 
claw  on  my  shoulder,  so  take  it  away,"  said  Sikes,  casting 
off  the  Jew's  hand. 

"It  makes  you  nervous,  Bill — leminds  you  of  being 
nabbed,  does  it  ? "  said  Fagin,  determined  not  to  be  of- 
fended. 

"  Reminds  me  of  being  nabbed  by  the  devil,"  returned 
Sikes.  "  There  never  was  another  man  with  such  a  face  as 
yours,  unless  it  was  your  father,  and  I  suppose  he  is  singe 
ing  his  grizzled  red  beard  by  this  time,  unless  you  came 
straight  from  the  old  'un  without  any  father  at  all  betwixt 
you  ;  which  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  a  bit." 


340  OLIVER  TWIST. 

Fagin  offered  no  reply  to  this  compliment ;  but,  pulling 
Sikes  by  the  sleeve,  pointed  his  finger  toward  Nancy,  who 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  foregoing  conversation  to  put  on 
her  bonnet,  and  was  now  leaving  the  room. 

"  Halloo  !  "  cried  Sikes.  "  Nance  !  Where's  the  gal 
going  to  at  this  time  of  night  ? " 

"Not  far." 

"  What  answer's  that  ? "  returned  Sikes.  "  Where  are  you 
going?" 

"  I  say,  not  far." 

"And  I  say,  where?"  retorted  Sikes.  "Do  you  hear 
me  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  where,"  replied  the  girl. 

"Then  I  do,"  said  Sikes,  more  in  the  spirit  of  obstinacy 
than  because  he  had  any  real  objection  to  the  girl  going 
where  she  listed.     "  Nowhere.     Sit  down." 

"  I'm  not  well.  I  told  you  that  before,"  rejoined  the  girl. 
"  I  want  a  breath  of  air." 

"  Put  your  head  out  of  the  winder,"  replied  Sikes. 

"  There's  not  enough  there,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  want  it  in 
the  street." 

"  Then  you  won't  have  it,"  replied  Sikes.  With  which 
assurance  he  rose,  locked  the  door,  took  the  key  out,  and 
pulling  her  bonnet  from  her  head,  flung  it  up  to  the  top  of 
an  old  press. 

"  There  !  "  said  the  robber.  "  Now  stop  quietly  where 
you  are,  will  you  ? " 

"  It's  not  such  a  matter  as  a  bonnet  would  keep  me,"  said 
the  girl,  turning  very  pale.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Bill  ?  Do 
you  know  what  you're  doing  ?  " 

"  Know  what  I'm-—  Oh  !  "  cried  Sikes,  turning  to  Fagin, 
"  she's  out  of  her  senses,  you  know,  or  she  daren't  talk  to 
me  in  that  way." 

"  You'll  drive  me  on  to  something  desperate,"  muttered 
the  girl,  placing  both  hands  upon  her  breast  as  though  to 
keep  down  by  force  some  violent  outbreak.  "  Let  me  go, 
will  you — this  minute — this  instant  !  " 

"  No  !  "  said  Sikes. 

"  Tell  him  to  let  me  go,  Fagin.  He  had  better.  It'll  be 
better  for  him.  Do  you  hear  me  ?"  cried  Nancy,  stamping 
her  foot  upon  the  ground. 

"  Hear  you  !  "  repeated  Sikes,  turning  round  in  his  chair 
to   confront    her.     "  Ay  !     And   if    I  hear  you  for  half  a 


OLIVER  TWIST.  341 

minute  longer,  the  dog  shall  have  such  a  grip  on  your  throat 
as'll  tear  some  of  that  screaming  voice  out.  Wot  has  come 
over  you,  you  jade  ?     Wot  is  it  ?*% 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  the  girl  with  great  earnestness  ;  then 
sitting  herself  down  on  the  floor  before  the  door,  she  said, 
"  Bill,  let  me  go  ;  you  don't  know  what  you  are  doing.  You 
don't,  indeed.     For  only  one  hour — do — do  !  " 

"  Cut  my  limbs  off  one  by  one,"  cried  Sikes,  seizing  her 
roughly  by  the  arm,  "  if  I  don't  think  the  girl's  stark  raving 
mad.     Get  up  !  " 

"  Not  till  you  let  me  go — not  till  you  let  me  go — never — 
never  !  "  screamed  the  girl.  Sikes  looked  on  for  a  minute, 
watching  his  opportunity,  and  suddenly  pinioning  her  hands, 
dragged  her,  struggling  and  wrestling  with  him  by  the  way, 
into  a  small  room  adjoining,  where  he  sat  himself  on  a 
bench,  and,  thrusting  her  into  a  chair,  held  her  down  by 
force.  She  struggled  and  implored  by  turns  until  twelve 
o'clock  had  struck,  and  then,  wearied  and  exhausted,  ceased 
to  contest  the  point  any  further.  With  a  caution,  backed 
by  many  oaths,  to  make  no  more  efforts  to  go  out  that 
night,  Sikes  left  her  to  recover  at  leisure  and  rejoined 
Fagin. 

"  Whew  !  "  said  the  house-breaker,  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  face.     "  Wot  a  precious  strange  gal  that  is  !  " 

"  You  may  say  that,  Bill,"  replied  Fagin,  thoughtfully. 
"You  may  say  that." 

"  Wot  did  she  take  it  into  her  head  to  go  out  to-night  for, 
do  you  think?"  asked  Sikes.  "Come;  you  should  know 
her  better  than  me.     Wot  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Obstinacy  ;  woman's  obstinacy,  I  suppose,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  is,"  growled  Sikes.  "  I  thought  I  had 
tamed  her,  but  she's  as  bad  as  ever." 

"  Worse,"  said  Fagin,  thoughtfully.  "  I  never  knew  her 
like  this,  for  such  a  little  cause." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Sikes.  "  I  think  she's  got  a  touch  of  that 
fever  in  her  blood  yet,  and  it  won't  come  out — eh  ? " 

"  Like  enough." 

"  I'll  let  her  a  little  blood,  without  troubling  the  doctor, 
if  she's  took  that  way  again,"  said  Sikes. 

Fagin  nodded  an  expressive  approval  of  this  mode  of 
treatment. 

"  She  was  hanging  about  me  all  day,  and  night  too,  when 
I  was  stretched  on  my  back  ;  and  you,  like  a  black-hearted 


342  OLIVER  TWIST. 

wolf  as  you  are,  kept  yourself  aloof,"  said  Sikes.  "We  was 
very  poor  too,  all  the  time,  and  I  think,  one  way  or  other, 
it's  worried  and  fretted  her  ;  and  that  being  shut  up  here  so 
long  has  made  her  restless — eh  ?  " 

-"  That's  it,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Jew,  in  a  whisper. 
"  Hush  !  " 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  girl  herself  appeared  and 
resumed  her  former  seat.  Her  eyes  were  swollen  and  red  ; 
she  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  tossed  her  head,  and,  after  a 
little  time,  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Why,  now  she's  on  the  other  tack  !  "  exclaimed  Sikes, 
turning  a  look  of  excessive  surprise  on  his  companion. 

Fagin  nodded  to  him  to  take  no  further  notice  just  then, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  girl  subsided  into  her  accustomed 
demeanor.  Whispering  to  Sikes  that  there  was  no  fear  of 
her  relapsing,  Fagin  took  up  his  hat  and  bade  him  good- 
night. He  paused  when  he  reached  the  room-door,  and, 
looking  round,  asked  if  somebody  would  light  him  down  the 
dark  stairs. 

"  Light  him  down,"  said  Sikes,  who  was  filling  his  pipe. 
"  It's  a  pity  he  should  break  his  neck  himself,  and  disap- 
point the  sight-seers.     Show  him  a  light." 

Nancy  followed  the  old  man  down  stairs  with  a  candle. 
When  they  reached  the  passage,  he  laid  his  finger  on  his  lip, 
and  drawing  close  to  the  girl,  said,  in  a  whisper, 

"  What  is  it,  Nancy,  dear  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  replied  the  girl,  in  the  same 
tone. 

"  The  reason  of  all  this,"  replied  Fagin.  "  If  he  " — 
he  pointed  with  his  skinny  forefinger  up  the  stairs — "  is  so 
hard  with  you  (he's  a  brute,  Nance,  a  brute-beast),  why 
don't  you — " 

"Well?"  said  the  girl,  as  Fagin  paused,  with  his  mouth 
almost  touching  her  ear,  and  his  eyes  looking  into  hers. 

"  No  matter  just  now.  "We'll  talk  of  this  again.  You 
have  a  friend  in  me,  Nance — a  staunch  friend.  I  have  the 
means  at  hand,  quiet  and  close.  If  you  want  revenge  on 
those  that  treat  you  like  a  dog — like  a  dog  !  worse  than  his 
dog,  for  he  humors  him  sometimes — come  to  me.  I  say, 
come  to  me.  He  is  the  mere  hound  of  a  day,  but  you  know 
me  of  old,  Nance." 

"  I  know  you  well,"  replied  the  girl,  without  manifesting 
the  least  emotion.     "  Good-night." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  343 

She  shrank  back,  as  Fagin  offered  to  lay  his  hand  on  hers, 
but  said  good-night  again  in  a  steady  voice,  and,  answering 
his  parting  look  with  a  nod  of  intelligence,  closed  the  door 
between  them. 

Fagin  walked  toward  his  own  home,  intent  upon  the 
thoughts  that  were  working  within  his  brain.  He  had  con- 
ceived the  idea — not  from  what  had  just  passed,  though  that 
'had  tended  to  confirm  him,  but  slowly  and  by  degrees — that 
Nancy,  wearied  of  the  house-breaker's  brutality,  had  con- 
ceived an  attachment  for  some  new  friend.  Her  altered 
manner,  her  repeated  absences  from  home  alone,  her  com- 
parative indifference  to  the  interests  of  the  gang  for  which 
she  had  once  been  so  zealous,  and,  added  to  these,  her  des- 
perate impatience  to  leave  home  that  night  at  a  particular 
hour,  all  favored  the  supposition,  and  rendered  it,  to  him  at 
least,  almost  a  matter  of  certainty.  The  object  of  this  new 
liking  was  not  among  his  myrmidons.  He  would  be  a  val- 
uable acquisition  with  such  an  assistant  as  Nancy,  and  must 
(thus  Fagin  argued)  be  secured  without  delay. 

There  was  another  and  a  darker  object  to  be  gained. 
Sikes  knew  too  much,  and  his  ruffian  taunts  had  not  galled 
Fagin  the  less  because  the  wounds  were  hidden.  The  girl 
must  know  well  that,  if  she  shook  him  off,  she  could  never 
be  safe  from  his  fury,  and  that  it  would  be  surely  wreaked — 
to  the  maiming  of  limbs,  or  perhaps  the  loss  of  life — on  the 
object  of  her  more  recent  fancy.  "With  a  little  persuasion," 
thought  Fagin,  "  what  more  likely  than  that  she  would  con- 
sent to  poison  him  ?  Women  have  done  such  things,  and 
worse,  to  secure  the  same  object  before  now.  There  would 
be  the  dangerous  villain,  the  man  I  hate,  gone  ;  another 
secured  in  his  place  ;  and  my  influence  over  the  girl,  with  a 
knowledge  of  this  crime  to  back  it,  unlimited." 

These  things  passed  through  the  mind  of  Fagin  during 
the  short  time  he  sat  alone  in  the  house-breaker's  room  ; 
and  with  them  uppermost  in  his  thoughts,  he  had  taken  the 
opportunity  afterward  afforded  him  of  sounding  the  girl  in 
the  broken  hints  he  threw  out  at  parting.  There  was  no 
expression  of  surprise,  no  assumption  of  an  inability  to  un- 
derstand his  meaning.  The  girl  clearly  comprehended  it 
Her  glance  at  parting  showed  that. 

But  perhaps  she  would  recoil  from  a  plot  to  take  the  life 
of  Sikes,  and  that  was  one  of  the  chief  ends  to  be  attained. 
"  How,"  thought  Fagin,  as  he  crept  homeward,   "  can  I  in- 


344  OLIVER  TWIST. 

crease  my  influence  with  her  ?  what  new  power  can  I 
acquire  ? " 

Such  brains  are  fertile  in  expedients.  If,  without  extract- 
ing a  confession  from  herself,  he  laid  a  watch,  discovered 
the  object  of  her  altered  regard,  and  threatened  to  reveal 
the  whole  history  to  Sikes  (of  whom  she  stood  in  no,  com- 
mon fear)  unless  she  entered  into  his  designs,  could  he  not 
secure  her  compliance  ? 

"  I  can,"  said  Fagin,  almost  aloud.  "  She  durst  not  re- 
fuse me  then.  Not  for  her  life,  not  for  her  life  !  I  have  it 
all.  The  means  are  ready,  and  shall  be  set  to  work.  I  shall 
have  you  yet  !  " 

He  cast  back  a  dark  look,  and  a  threatening  motion  of 
the  hand,  toward  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the  bolder 
villain  ;  and  went  on  his  way,  burying  his  bony  hands  in  the 
folds  of  his  tattered  garment,  which  he  wrenched  tightly  in 
his  grasp,  as  though  there  were  a  hated  enemy  crushed  with 
every  motion  of  his  fingers. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

NOAH    CLAYPOLE     IS     EMPLOVED     BY     FAGIN     ON    A     SECRET 
MISSION. 

The  old  man  was  up  betimes  next  morning,  and  waited 
impatiently  for  the  appearance  of  his  new  associate,  who, 
after  a  delay  that  seemed  interminable,  at  length  presented 
himself,  and  commenced  a  voracious  assault  on  the  break- 
fast. 

"  Bolter,"  said  Fagin,  drawing  up  a  chair  and  seating  him- 
self opposite  Morris  Bolter. 

"  Well,  here  I  am,"  returned  Noah.  "  What's  the  matter  ? 
Don't  yer  ask  me  to  do  any  thing  till  I  have  done  eating. 
That's  a  great  fault  in  this  place.  Yer  never  have  time 
enough  over  yer  meals." 

"  You  can  talk  as  you  eat,  can't  you  ?  "  said  Fagin,  curs- 
ing his  dear  young  friend's  greediness  from  the  very  bottom 
of  his  heart. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  can  talk.  I  get  on  better  when  I  talk,"  said 
Noah,  cutting  a  monstrous  slice  of  bread.  "  Where's  Char- 
lotte ? " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  345 

"  Out,"  said  Fagin.  "  I  sent  her  out  this  morning  with  the 
other  young  woman,  because  I  wanted  to  be  alone." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Noah.  "  I  wish  yer'd  ordered  her  to  make 
some  buttered  toast  first.  Well,  talk  away.  Yer  won't  in- 
terrupt me." 

There  seemed,  indeed,  no  great  fear  of  any  thing  interrupt- 
ing him,  as  he  had  evidently  sat  down  with  a  determination 
to  do  a  great  deal  of  business. 

V  You  did  well  yesterday,  my  dear,"  said  Fagin.  "  Beauti- 
ful !  Six  shillings  and  ninepence  half-penny  on  the  very 
first  day  !     The  kinchin  lay  will  be  a  fortune  to  you." 

"  Don't  you  forget  to  add  three  pint- pots  and  a  milk-can," 
said  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear.  The  pint-pots  were  great  strokes  of 
genius  ;  but  the  milk-can  was  a  perfect  masterpiece." 

"  Pretty  well,  I  think,  for  a  beginner,"  remarked  Mr.  Bolter 
complacently.  "  The  pots  I  took  off  airy  railings,  and 
the  milk-can  was  standing  by  itself  outside  a  public-house. 
I  thought  it  might  get  rusty  with  the  rain,  or  catch  cold,  yer 
know— eh  ?     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

Fagin  affected  to  laugh  very  heartily  ;  and  Mr.  Bolter 
having  had  his  laugh  out,  took  a  series  of  large  bites,  which 
finished  his  first  hunk  of  bread-and-butter,  and  assisted  him- 
self to  a  second. 

"  I  want  you,  Bolter,"  said  Fagin,  leaning  over  the  table, 
"  to  do  a  piece  of  work  for  me,  my  dear,  that  needs  great 
care  and  caution." 

"  I  say,"  rejoined  Bolter,  "don't  yer  go  shoving  me  into 
danger,  \>r  sending  me  to  any  more  o'  yer  police-offices.  That 
don't  suit  me,  that  don't  ;  and  so  I  tell  yer." 

"  There's  not  the  smallest  danger  in  it — not  the  very 
smallest,"  said  the  Jew  ;  "  it's  only  to  dodge  a  woman." 

"  An  old  woman  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Bolter. 

"  A  young  one,"  replied  Fagin. 

"  I  can  do  that  pretty  well,  I  know,"  said  Bolter.  "I  was 
a  regular  cunning  sneak  when  I  was  at  school.  What  am  I 
to  dodge  her  for  ?     Not  to — " 

"  Not  to  do  any  thing,  but  to  tell  me  where  she  goes,  who 
she  sees,  and,  if  possible,  what  she  says  ;  to  remember  the 
street,  if  it  is  a  street,  or  the  house,  if  it  is  a  house  ;  and  to 
bring  me  back  all  the  information  you  can." 

"  What'll  yer  give  me  ?  asked  Noah,  setting  down  his  cup 
and  looking  his  employer  eagerly  in  the  face. 


340  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"If  you  do  it  well,  a  pound,  my  dear.  One  pound,"  said 
Fagin,  wishing  to  interest  him  as  much  as  possible.  "  And 
that's  what  I  never  gave  for  any  job  of  work  where  there 
wasn't  valuable  consideration  to  be  gained." 

"Who  is  she  ?"  inquired  Noah. 

"  One  of  us." 

"  Oh  Lor  !  "  cried  Noah,  curling  up  his  nose.  "  Yer  doubt- 
ful of  her,  are  yer  ?" 

"  She  has  found  out  some  new  friends,  my  dear,  and  I  must 
know  who  they  are,"  replied  Fagin. 

"  I  see,"  said  Noah.  "  Just  to  have  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing them,  if  they're  respectable  people — eh  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
I'm  your  man." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be,"  cried  Fagin,  elated  by  the  success 
of  his  proposal. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  Noah.  "Where  is  she? 
Where  am  I  to  wait  for  her  ?     Where  am  I  to  go  ? 

"  All  that,  my  dear,  you  shall  hear  from  me.  I'll  point  her 
out  at  the  proper  time,"  said  Fagin.  "  You  keep  ready,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me," 

That  night,  and  the  next,  and  the  next  again,  the  spy  sat 
booted  and  equipped  in  his  carter's  dress,  ready  to  turn  out 
at  a  word  from  Fagin.  Six  nights  passed — six  long  weary 
nights — and  on  each  Fagin  came  home  with  a  disappointed 
face,  and  briefly  intimated  that  it  was  not  yet  time.  On  the 
seventh  he  returned  earlier,  and  with  an  exultation  he  could 
not  conceal.     It  was  Sunday. 

"  She  goes  abroad  to-night,"  said  Fagin,  "  and  on  the  right 
errand,  I'm  sure  ;  for  she  has  been  alone  all  day,  and  the  man 
she  is  afraid  of  will  not  be  back  much  before  day-break. 
Come  with  me.     Quick  !  " 

Noah  started  up  without  saying  a  word  ;  for  the  Jew  was 
in  a  state  of  such  intense  excitement  that  it  infected  him. 
They  left  the  house  stealthily,  and,  hurrying  through  a  laby- 
rinth of  streets,  arrived  at  length  before  a  public-house,  which 
Noah  recognized  as  the  same  in  which  he  slept  the  night  of 
his  arrival  in  London. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  door  was  closed.  It 
opened  softly  on  the  hinges  as  Fagin  gave  a  low  whistle. 
They  entered  without  noise,  and  the  door  was  closed  behind 
them. 

Scarcely  venturing  to  whisper,  but  substituting  dumb  show 
for  words,  Fagin  and  the  young  Jew  who  had  admitted  them 


OLIVER  TWIST.  347 

pointed  out  the  pane  of  glass  to  Noah,  and  signed  to  him  to 
climb  up  and  observe  the  person  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"  Is  that  the  woman  ?  "  he  asked,  scarcely  above  his 
breath. 

Fagin  nodded  yes. 

"  I  can't  see  her  face  well,"  whispered  Noah.  "  She  is 
looking  down,  and  the  candle  is  behind  her." 

"  Stay  there,"  whispered  Fagin.  He  signed  to  Barney, 
who  withdrew.  In  an  instant  the  lad  entered  the  room  ad- 
joining, and,  under  pretense  of  snuffing  the  candle,  moved 
it  in  the  required  position  and  speaking  to  the  girl,  caused 
her  to  raise  her  face. 

"  I  see  her  now,"  cried  the  spy. 

"Plainly?" 

"  I  should  know  her  among  a  thousand." 

He  hastily  descended  as  the  room-door  opened,  and  the 
girl  came  out.  Fagin  drew  him  behind  a  small  partition 
which  was  curtained  off,  and  they  held  their  breaths  as  she 
passed  within  a  few  feet  of  their  place  of  concealment  and 
emerged  by  the  door  at  which  they  had  entered. 

"  Hist  !  "  cried  the  lad  who  held  the  door.     "  Dow  !  " 

Noah  exchanged  a  look  with  Fagin,  and  darted  out. 

"  To  the  left,"  whispered  the  lad  :  "  take  the  left  had,  and 
keep  od  the  other  side." 

He  did  so  ;  and,  by  the  light  of  the  lamps,  saw  the  girl's 
retreating  figure,  already  at  some  distance  before  him.  He 
advanced  as  near  as  he. considered  prudent,  and  kept  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  the  better  to  observe  her  motions. 
She  looked  nervously  round  twice  or  thrice,  and  once  stopped 
to  let  two  men  who  were  following  close  behind  her  pass  on. 
She  seemed  to  gather  courage  as  she  advanced,  and  to  walk 
with  a  steadier  and  firmer  step.  The  spy  preserved  the  same 
relative  distance  between  them  and  followed  with  his  eye 
upon  her. 


348  OLIVER  TWIST. 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE  APPOINTMENT  KEPT 

The  church  clocks  chimed  three  quarters  past  eleven,  as  two 
figures  emerged  on  London  Bridge.  One,  which  advanced 
with  a  swift  and  rapid  step,  was  that  of  a  woman,  who  looked 
eagerly  about  her  as  though  in  quest  of  some  expected  ob- 
ject ;  the  other  figure  was  that  of  a  man,  who  slunk  along 
in  the  deepest  shadow  he  could  find,  and  at  some  distance, 
accommodated  his  pace  toilers — stopping  when  she  stopped, 
and,  as  she  moved  again,  creeping  stealthily  on  ;  but  never 
allowing  himself,  in  the  ardor  of  his  pursuit,  to  gain  upon  her 
footsteps.  Thus  they  crossed  the  bridge,  from  the  Middle- 
sex to  the  Surrey  shore,  when  the  woman,  apparently  disap- 
pointed in  her  anxious  scrutiny  of  the  foot-passengers,  turned 
back.  The  movement  was  sudden  ;  but,  he  who  watched  her 
was  not  thrown  off  his  guard  by  it;  for,  shrinking  into  one  of 
the  recesses  which  surmount  the  piers  of  the  bridge,  and 
leaning  over  the  parapet,  the  better  to  conceal  his  figure,  he 
suffered  her  to  pass  on  the  opposite  pavement.  When  she 
was  about  the  same  distance  in  advance  as  she  had  been  be- 
fore, he  slipped  quietly  down,  and  followed  her  again.  At 
nearly  the  center  of  the  bridge  she  stopped.  The  man 
stopped  too. 

It  was  a  very  dark  night.  The  day  had  been  unfavorable, 
and  at  that  hour  and  place  there  were  few  people  stirring. 
Such  as  there  were  hurried  quickly  past,  very  possibly  with- 
out seeing,  but  certainly  without  noticing,  either  the  woman 
or  the  man  who  kept  her  in  view.  Their  appearance  was  not 
calculated  to  attract  the  importunate  regards  of  such  of  Lon- 
don's destitute  population  as  chanced  to  take  their  way  over 
the  bridge  that  night  in  search  of  some  cold  arch  or  doorless 
hovel  wherein  to  lay  their  heads  ;  they  stood  there  in  silence, 
neither  speaking  nor  spoken  to  by  any  one  who  passed. 

A  mist  hung  over  the  river,  deepening  the  red  glare  of  the 
fires  that  burned  upon  the  small  craft  moored  off  the  differ- 
ent wharves,  and  rendering  darker  and  more  indistinct  the 
murky  buildings  on  the  banks.  The  old  smoke-stained 
store-houses  on  either  side  rose  heavy  and  dull  from  the 
dense  mass  of  roofs  and  gables,  and  frowned  sternly  upon 
vater  too  black  to  reflect  even  their  lumbering  shapes.    The 


OLIVER  TWIST.  349 

tower  of  old  Saint  Saviour's  Church,  and  the  spire  of  Saint 
Magnus,  so  long  the  giant-warders  of  the  ancient  bridge, 
were  visible  in  the  gloom  ;  but  the  forest  of  shipping  below 
bridge,  and  the  thickly  scattered  spires  of  churches  above, 
were  nearly  all  hidden  from  the  sight. 

The  girl  had  taken  a  few  restless  turns  to  and  fro,  closely 
watched  meanwhile  by  her  hidden  observer,  when  the  heavy 
bell  of  St.  Paul's  tolled  for  the  death  of  another  day.  Mid- 
night had  come  upon  the  crowded  city.  The  palace,  the 
night-cellar,  the  jail,  the  mad-house  ;'the  chambers  of  birth 
and  death,  of  health  and  sickness,  the  rigid  face  of  the 
corpse  and  the  calm  sleep  of  the  child — midnight  was  upon 
them  all. 

The  hour  had  not  struck  two  minutes,  when  a  young  lady, 
accompanied  by  a  gray-haired  gentleman,  alighted  from  a 
hackney-carriage  within  a  short  distance  of  the  bridge,  and, 
having  dismissed  the  vehicle,  walked  straight  toward  it. 
They  had  scarcely  set  foot  upon  its  pavement,  when  the  girl 
started,  and  immediately  made  toward  them. 

They  walked  onward,  looking  about  them  with  the  air  of 
persons  who  entertained  some  very  slight  expectation  which 
had  little  chance  of  being  realized,  when  they  were  suddenly 
joined  by  this  new  associate.  They  halted  with  an  excla- 
mation of  surprise,  but  suppressed  it  immediately;  for  a  man 
in  the  garments  of  a  countryman  came  close  up — brushed 
against  them,  indeed — at  that  precise  moment. 

"  Not  here,"  said  Nancy,  hurriedly.  "  I  am  afraid  to  speak 
to  you  here.  Come  away — out  of  the  public  road — down 
the  steps  yonder  !  " 

As  she  uttered  these  words,  and  indicated  with  her  hand 
the  direction  in  which  she  wished  them  to  proceed,  the 
countryman  looked  round,  and  roughly  asking  what  they 
took  up  the  whole  pavement  for,  passed  on. 

The  steps  to  which  the  girl  had  pointed  were  those  which, 
on  the  Surrey  bank,  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  bridge  as 
Saint  Saviour's  Church,  form  a  landing-stairs  from  the  river. 
To  this  spot  the  man  bearing  the  appearance  of  a  country- 
man hastened  unobserved,  and  after  a  moment's  survey  of 
the  place,  he  began  to  descend. 

These  stairs  are  a  part  of  the  bridge  ;  they  consist  of  three 
flights.  Just  below  the  end  of  the  second,  going  down,  the 
stone  wall  on  the  left  terminates  in  an  ornamental  pilaster 
facing  toward  the  Thames.     At  this  point  the  lower  steps 


3S0  OLIVER  TWIST 

widen,  so  that  a  person  turning  that  angle  of  the  wall  is 
necessarily  unseen  by  any  others  on  the  stairs  who  chance  to 
be  above  him,  if  only  a  step.  The  countryman  looked 
hastily  round  when  he  reached  this  point  ;  and  as  there 
seemed  no  better  place  of  concealment,  and,  the  tide  being 
out,  there  was  plenty  of  room,  he  slipped  aside,  with  his 
back  to  the  pilaster,  and  there  waited,  pretty  certain  that 
they  would  come  no  lower,  and  that  even  if  he  could  not 
hear  what  was  said,  he  could  follow  them  again  with  safety. 

So  tardily  stole  the  time  in  this  lonely  place,  and  so  eager 
was  the  spy  to  penetrate  the  motives  of  an  interview  so  dif- 
ferent from  what  lie  had  been  led  to  expect,  that  he  more 
than  once  gave  the  matter  up  for  lost,  and  persuaded  him- 
self either  that  they  had  stopped  far  above,  or  had  resorted 
to  some  entirely  different  spot  to  hold  their  mysterious  con- 
versation. He  was  on  the  point  of  emerging  from  his  hid- 
ing-place and  regaining  the  road  above,  when  he  heard  the 
sound  of  footsteps,  and  directly  afterward  of  voices  almost 
close  at  his  ear. 

He  drew  himself  straight  upright  against  the  wall,  and, 
scarcely  breathing,  listened  attentively. 

"  This  is  far  enough,"  said  a  voice,  which  was  evidently 
that  of  the  gentleman.  "  I  will  not  suffer  the  young  lady  to 
go  any  further.  Many  people  would  have  distrusted  you  too 
much  to  have  come  even  so  far,  but  you  see  I  am  willing  to 
humor  you." 

"  To  humor  me  !  "  cried  the  voice  of  the  girl  whom  he  had 
followed.  "  You're  considerate,  indeed,  sir.  To  humor  me  ! 
Well,  well,  it's  no  matter." 

"  Why,  for  what,"  said  the  gentleman,  in  a  kinder  tone, 
"for  what  p.irpose  can  you  have  brought  us  to  this  strange 
place?  Why  not  have  let  me  speak  to  you  above  there, 
where  it  is  light,  and  there  is  something  stirring,  instead  of 
bring  us  to  this  dark  and  dismal  hole  ? " 

"  I  told  you  before,"  replied  Nancy,  "  that  I  was  afraid  to 
speak  to  you  there.  I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  said  the  girl, 
shuddering,  "  but  I  have  such  a  fear  and  dread  upon  me  to- 
night that  I  can  hardly  stand." 

"  A  fear  of  what  ?  "  asked  the  gentleman,  who  seemed  to 
pity  her. 

"  I  scarcely  know  of  what,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  wish  I 
did.  Horrible  thoughts  of  death,  and  shrouds  with  blood 
upon  them,  and  a  fear  that  has  made  me  burn  as  if  I  was  on 


OLIVER  TWIST.  351 

fire,  have  been  upon  me  all  day.  I  was  reading  a  book  to- 
night, to  while  the  time  away,  and  the  same  tilings  came 
into  the  print." 

"  Imagination,"  said  the  gentleman,  soothing  her. 

"  No  imagination,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 
"  I'll  swear  I  saw  *  coffin '  written  in  every  page  of  the  book 
in  large  black  letters — ay,  and  they  carried  one  close  to  me 
in  the  streets  to-night." 

"  There  is  nothing  unusual  in  that,"  said  the  gentleman^ 
44  They  have  passed  me  often." 

14  Real  ones"  rejoined  the  girl.     "  This  was  not." 

There  was  something  so  uncommon  in  her  manner,  that 
the  flesh  of  the  concealed  listener  crept  as  he  heard  the  girl 
utter  these  words,  and  the  blood  chilled  within  him.  He 
had  never  experienced  a  greater  relief  than  in  hearing  the 
sweet  voice  of  the  young  lady  as  she  begged  her  to  be  calm, 
and  not  allow  herself  to  become  the  prey  of  such  fearful 
fancies. 

"Speak  to  her  kindly,"  said  the  young  lady  to  her  com- 
panion.    "  Poor  creature  !     She  seems  to  need  it." 

14  Your  haughty  religious  people  would  have  held  their 
heads  up  to  see  me  as  I  am  to-night,  and  preached  of  flames 
and  vengeance,"  cried  the  girl.  "  Oh,  dear  lady,  why  ar'n't 
those  who  claim  to  be  God's  own  folks  as  gentle  and  as  kind 
to  us  poor  wretches  as  you,  who,  having  youth,  and  beauty, 
and  all  that  they  have  lost,  might  be  a  little  proud,  instead 
of  so  much  humbler  ? " 

44  Ah  ! "  said  the  gentleman.  "  A  Turk  turns  his  face, 
after  washing  it  well,  to  the  East,  when  he  says  his  prayers  ; 
these  good  people,  after  giving  their  faces  such  a  rub  against 
the  World  as  to  take  the  smiles  off,  turn  with  no  less  regu- 
larity to  the  darkest  side  of  Heaven.  Between  the  Mussul- 
man and  the  Pharisee,  commend  me  to  the  first  !  " 

These  words  appeared  to  be  addressed  to  the  young  lady, 
and  were  perhaps  uttered  with  the  view  of  affording  Nancy 
time  to  recover  herself.  The  gentleman  shortly  afterward 
addressed  himself  to  her. 

44  You  were  not  here  last  Sunday  night,"  he  said. 

"I  couldn't  come,"  replied  Nancy;  "I  was  kept  by 
force." 

"  By  whom  ? " 

44  Him  that  I  told  the  young  lady  of  before." 

"  You  were  not  suspected  of  holding  any  communication 


352  OLIVER  TWIST. 

with  any  body  on  the  subject  which  has  brought  us  here  to- 
night, I  hope  ?"  asked  the  old  gentleman. 

"  No,"  replied  the  girl,  shaking  her  head.  "  It's  not  very 
easy  for  me  to  leave  him  unless  he  knows  why  ;  I  couldn't 
have  seen  the  lady  when  I  did,  but  that  I  gave  him  a  drink 
of  laudanum  before  I  came  away." 

"  Did  he  awake  before  you  returned  ? "  inquired  the  gen- 
tleman. 

"  No  ;  and  neither  he  nor  any  of  them  suspect  me." 

"  Good,"  said  the  gentleman.     "  Now  listen  to  me." 

u  I  am  ready,"  replied  the  girl,  as  he  paused  for  a 
moment.  * 

"  This  young  lady,"  the  gentleman  began,  "  has  commun- 
icated to  me,  and  to  some  other  friends  who  can  be  safely 
trusted,  what  you  told  her  nearly  a  fortnight  since.  I  con- 
fess to  you  that  I  had  doubts  at  first  whether  you  were  to 
be  implicitly  relied  upon,  but  now  I  firmly  believe  you 
are." 

"  I  am,"  said  the  girl,  earnestly. 

"  I  repeat  that  I  firmly  believe  it.  To  prove  to  you  that 
I  am  disposed  to  trust  you,  I  tell  you,  without  reserve,  that 
we  propose  to  extort  the  secret,  whatever  it  may  be,  from 
the  fears  of  this  man  Monks.  But  if — if — "  said  the  gentle- 
man, "  he  can  not  be  -secured,  or,  if  secured,  can  not  be 
acted  upon  as  we  wish,  you  must  deliver  up  the  Jew." 

"  Fagin  !  "  cried  the  girl,  recoiling. 

"  That  man  nuist  be  delivered  up  by  you,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman. 

"  I  will  not  do  it  !  I  will  never  do  it  !  "  replied  the  girl. 
"  Devil  that  he  is,  and  worse  than  devil  as  he  has  been  to 
me,  I  will  never  do  that." 

"  You  will  not  ? "  said  the  gentleman,  who  seemed  fully 
prepared  for  this  answer. 

Never  !  "  returned  the  girl. 

"  Tell  me  why  ?  " 

"  For  one  reason,"  rejoined  the  girl,  firmly,  "  for  one  rea- 
son, that  the  lady  knows  and  will  stand  by  me  in — I  know 
she  will,  for  I  have  her  promise  ;  and  for  this  other  reason 
besides,  that,  bad  life  as  he  has  led,  I  have  led  a  bad  life  too : 
there  are  many  of  us  who  have  kept  the  same  courses  to- 
gether, and  I'll  not  turn  upon  them,  who  might — any  of 
them — have  turned  upon  me,  but  didn't,  bad  as  they  are." 

"  Then,"  said  the  gentleman,  quickly,  as  if  this  had  been 


OLIVER  TWIST.  353 

the  point  he  had  been  aiming  to  attain,  "  put  Monks  into  my 
hands,  and  leave  him  to  me  to  deal  with." 

"What  if  he  turns  against  the  others  ? " 

"  I  promise*  you  that  in  that  case,  if  the  truth  is  forced 
from  him,  there  the  matter  will  rest  ;  there  must  be  circum- 
stances in  Oliver's  little  history  which  it  would  be  painful  to 
drag  before  the  public  eye,  and,  if  the  truth  is  once  elicited, 
they  shall  go  scot  free." 

"  And  if  it  is  not  ? "  suggested  the  girl. 

"Then,"  pursued  the  gentleman,  "this  Fagin  shall  not  be 
brought  to  justice  without  your  consent.  In  such  a  case  I 
could  show  you  reasons,  I  think,  which  would  induce  you  to 
yield  it." 

"  Have  I  the  lady's  promise  for  that  ? "  asked  the  girl. 

"You  have,"  replied  Rose.  "My  true  and  faithful 
pledge." 

"  Monks  would  never  learn  how  you  knew  what  you  do  ?  " 
said  the  girl,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Never,"  replied  the  gentleman.  "  The  intelligence 
should  be  so  brought  to  bear  upon  him  that  he  could  never 
even  guess." 

"  I  have  been  a  liar,  and  among  liars  from  a  little  child," 
said  the  girl,  after  another  interval  of  silence,  "but  I  will 
take  your  words." 

After  receiving  an  assurance  from  both  that  she  might 
safely  do  so,  she  proceeded,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it  was 
often  difficult  for  the  listener  to  discover  even  the  purport 
of  what  she  said,  to  describe,  by  name  and  situation,  the 
public-house  whence  she  had  been  followed  that  night. 
From  the  manner  in  which  she  occasionally  paused,  it  ap- 
peared as  if  the  gentleman  were  making  some  hasty  notes  of 
the  information  she  communicated.  When  she  had  thor- 
oughly explained  the  localities  of  the  place,  the  best  position 
from  which  to  watch  it  without  exciting  observation,  and  the 
night  and  hour  on  which  Monks  was  most  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting  it,  she  seemed  to  consider  for  a  few  moments, 
for  the  purpose  of  recalling  his  features  and  appearance 
more  forcibly  to  her  recollection. 

"  He  is  tall,"  said  the  girl,  "and  a  strongly  made  man, 
but  not  stout  ;  he  has  a  lurking  walk  ;  and,  as  he  walks, 
constantly  looks  over  his  shoulder,  first  on  one  side,  and 
then  on  the  other.  Don't  forget  that,  for  his  eyes  are  sunk 
in  his  head  so  much  deeper  than  any  other  man's  that  you 


354  OLIVER  TWIST. 

might  almost  tell  him  by  that  alone.  His  face  is  dark,  like 
his  hair  and  eyes  ;  and,  although  he  can't  be  more  than  six 
or  eight  and  twenty,  withered  and  haggard.  His  lips  are 
often  discolored  and  disfigured  with  the  marks  of  teeth;  for 
he  has  desperate  fits,  and  sometimes  even  bites  his  hands 
and  covers  them  with  wounds — why  did  you  start  ?  "  said  the 
girl,  stopping  suddenly. 

The  gentleman  replied,  in  a  hurried  manner,  that  he  .was 
not  conscious  of  having  done  so,  and  begged  her  to 
proceed. 

"Part  of  this,"  said  the  girl,  "  I've  drawn  out  from  other 
people  at  the  house  I  tell  you  of,  for  I  have  only  seen  him 
twice,  and  both  times  he  was  covered  up  in  a  large  cloak.  I 
think  that's  all  I  can  give  you  to  know  him  by.  Stay, 
though,"  she  added.  "  Upon  his  throat,  so  high  that  you 
can  see  a  part  of  it  below  his  neckerchief  when  he  turns  his 
face,  there  is — " 

"A  broad  red  mark,  like  a  burn  or  scald,"  cried  the  gen- 
tleman. 

"  How's  this  ?  "  said  the  girl.     "You  know  him  !  " 

The  young  lady  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise,  and  for  a  few 
moments  they  were  so  still  that  the  listener  could  distinctly 
hear  them  breathe. 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  the  gentleman,  breaking  silence.  "  I 
should  by  your  description.  We  shall  see.  Many  people  are 
singularly  like  each  other.     It  may  not  be  the  same." 

As  he  expressed  himself  to  this  effect  with  assumed  care- 
lessness, he  took  a  step  or  two  nearer  the  concealed  spy,  as 
the  latter  could  tell  from  the  distinctness  with  which  he 
heard  him  mutter,  "  It  must  be  he  !  " 

"  Now,"  he  said,  returning,  so  it  seemed  by  the  sound,  to 
the  spot  where  he  had  stood  before,  "you  have  given  us 
most  valuable  assistance,  young  woman,  and  1  wish  you  to 
be  the  better  for  it.     What,  can  I  do  to  serve  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Nancy. 

"  You  will  not  persist  in  saying  that,"  rejoined  the  gentle- 
man, with  a  voice  and  emphasis  of  kindness  that  might  have 
touched  a  much  harder  and  more  obdurate  heart.  Think 
now.    Tell  me." 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  rejoined  the  girl,  weeping.  "  You  can  do 
nothing  to  help  me.     I  am  past  all  hope,  indeed." 

"  You  put  yourself  beyond  its  pale,"  said  the  gentleman. 
The  past  has  been  a  dreary  waste  with  you,  of  youthful 


OLIVER  TWIST.  35* 

energies  misspent,  and  such  priceless  treasures  lavished,  as 
the  Creator  bestows  but  once  and  never  grants  again,  but, 
for  the  future,  you  may  hope.  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  in  our 
power  to  offer  you  peace  of  heart  and  mind,  for  that  must 
come  as  you  seek  it  ;  but  a  quiet  asylum,  either  in  England, 
or,  if  you  fear  to  remain  here,  in  some  foreign  country,  it  is 
not  only  within  the  compass  of  our  ability  but  our  most 
anxious  wish  to  secure  you.  Before  the  dawn  of  morning, 
before  this  river  wakes  to  the  first  glimpse  of  daylight,  you 
shall  be  placed  as  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  your  former 
associates,  and  leave  as  utter  an  absence  of  all  trace  behind 
you,  as  if  you  were  to  disappear  from  the  earth  this  moment. 
Come  !  I  would  not  have  you  go  back  to  exchange  one 
word  with  any  old  companion,  or  take  one  look  at  any  old 
haunt,  or  breathe  the  very  air  which  is  pestilence  and  death 
to  you.  Quit  them  all,  while  there  is  time  and  oppor- 
tunity !  " 

"  She  will  be  persuaded  now,"  cried  the  young  lady.  "  She 
hesitates,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  fear  not,  my  dear,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not,"  replied  the  girl,  after  a  short  struggle. 
"  I  am  chained  to  my  old  life.  I  loathe  and  hate  it  now, 
but  I  can  not  leave  it.  I  must  have  gone  too  far  to  turn 
back — and  yet  I  don't  know  ;  for  if  you  had  spoken  to  me  so 
some  time  ago,  I  should  have  laughed  it  off.  But,"  she  said, 
looking  hastily  round,  "  this  fear  comes  over  me  again.  I 
must  go  home." 

"  Home  !  "  repeated  the  young  lady,  with  great  stress  upon 
the  word. 

"  Home,  lady,"  rejoined  the  girl.  "  To  such  a  home  as  I 
have  raised  for  myself  with  the  work  of  my  whole  life.  Let 
us  part.  I  shall  be  watched  or  seen.  Go  !  Go  !  If  I  have 
done  you  any  service,  all  I  ask  is,  that  you  leave  me,  and  let 
me  go  my  way  alone." 

*  It  is  useless,"  said  the  gentleman,  with  a  sigh.  "We 
compromise  her  safety,  perhaps,  by  staying  here.  We  may 
have  detained  her  longer  than  she  expected  already." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  urged  the  girl.     "  You  have." 

"  What,"  cried  the  young  lady,  "  can  be  the  end  of  this 
poor  creature's  life  !  " 

"  What  !  "  repeated  the  girl.  "  Look  before  you,  lady. 
Look  at  that  dark  water.  How  many  times  do  you  read  of 
such  as  I  who  spring  into  the  tide,  and  leave  no  living  thing 


356  OLIVER  TWIST. 

to  care  for  or  bewail  them.     It    may  be  years  hence,  or  it 
may  be  only  months,  but  I  shall  come  to  that  at  last." 

"  Do  not  speak  thus,  pray,"  returned  the  young  lady, 
sobbing. 

"  It  will  never  reach  your  ears,  dear  lady,  and  God  forbid 
such  horrors  should  !  "  replied  the  girl.  "  Good-night, 
good-night  !  " 

The  gentleman  turned  away. 

"  This  purse,"  cried  the  young  lady.  "  Take  it  for  my 
sake,  that  you  may  have  some  resource  in  an  hour  of  need 
and  trouble  !  " 

"  No  !  "  replied  the  girl.  "  I  have  not  done  this  for  money. 
Let  me  have  that  to  think  of.  And  yet — give  me  something 
that  you  have  worn  :  I  should  like  to  have  something — no, 
no,  not  a  ring — your  gloves  or  handkerchief — any  thing  that 
I  can  keep,  as  having  belonged  to  you,  sweet  lady.  There, 
Bless  you  !  God  bless  you  !   Good-night,  good-night  !  " 

The  violent  agitation  of  the  girl,  and  the  apprehension  of 
some  discovery  which  would  subject  her  to  ill-usage  and 
violence,  seemed  to  determine  the  gentleman  to  leave  her 
as  she  requested.  The  sounds  of  retreating  footsteps  were 
audible,  and  the  voices  ceased. 

The  two  figures  of  the  young  lady  and  her  companion  soon 
afterward  appeared  upon  the  bridge.  They  stopped  at  the 
summit  of  the  stairs. 

Hark  !  "  cried  the  young  lady,  listening.  "  Did  she  call  ? 
I  thought  I  heard  her  voice." 

"No,  my  love,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  looking  sadly  back. 
"She  has  not  moved,  and  will  not  till  we  are  gone.'" 

Rose  Maylie  lingered,  but  the  old  gentleman  drew  her 
arm  through  his,  and  led  her,  with  gentle  force,  away.  As 
they  disappeared,  the  girl  sunk  down  nearly  at  her  full 
length  upon  one  of  the  stone  stairs,  and  vented  the  anguish 
of  her  heart  in  bitter  tears. 

After  a  time  she  arose,  and  with  feeble  and  tottering  steps 
ascended  to  the  street.  The  astonished  listener  remained 
motionless  on  his  post  for  some  minutes  afterward,  and  hav- 
ing ascertained,  with  many  cautious  glances  round  him,  that 
he  was  again  alone,  crept  slowly  from  his  hiding-place,  and 
returned  stealthily  and  in  the  shade  of  the  wall,  in  the  same 
manner  as  he  had  descended. 

Peeping  out  more  than  once,  when  he  reached  the  top,  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  unobserved,  Noah  Qaypole  darted 


OLIVER  TWIST.  357 

away  at  his  Utmost  speed,  and  made  for  the  Jew's  house  as 
fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

FATAL    CONSEQUENCES. 

It  was  nearly  two  hours  before  day-break— that  time 
which  tn  the  autumn  of  the  year  may  be  truly  called  the 
dead  of  night,  when  the  streets  are  silent  and  deserted,  when 
even  sounds  appear  to  slumber,  and  profligacy  and  riot  have 
staggered  home  to  dream  ;  it  was  at  this  still  and  silent  hour 
that  Fagin  sat  watching  in  his  old  lair,  with  face  so  distorted 
and  pale,  and  eyes  so  red  and  bloodshot,  that  he  looked  less 
like  a  man  than  like  some  hideous  phantom  moist  from  the 
grave,  and  worried  by  an  evil  spirit. 

He  sat  crouching  over  a  cold  hearth,  wrapped  in  an  old 
torn  coverlet,  with  his  face  turned  toward  a  wasting  candle 
that  stood  upon  a  table  by  his  side.  His  right  hand  was 
raised  to  his  lips,  and  as,  absorbed  in  thought,  he  bit  his  long 
black  nails,  he  disclosed  among  his  toothless  gums  a  few 
such  fangs  as  should  have  been  a  dog's  or  rat's. 

Stretched  upon  a  mattress  on  the  floor  lay  Noah  Claypole, 
fast  asleep.  Toward  him  the  old  man  sometimes  directed  his 
eyes  for  an  instant,  and  then  brought  them  back  again  to 
the  candle,  which  with  a  long-burned  wick  drooping  almost 
double,  and  hot  grease  falling  down  in  clots  upon  the  table, 
plainly  showed  that  his  thoughts  were  busy  elsewhere. 

Indeed  they  were.  Mortification  at  the  overthrow  of  his 
notable  scheme  ;  hatred  of  the  girl  who  had  dared  to  palter 
with  strangers  ;  and  utter  distrust  of  the  sincerity  of  her  re- 
fusal to  yield  him  up  ;  bitter  disappointment  at  the  loss  of 
his  revenge  on  Sikes;  the  fear  of  detection. and  ruin, and  death  ; 
and  a  fierce  and  deadly  rage  kindled  by  all;  these  were  the  pas- 
sionate considerations  which,  following  close  upon  each  other 
with  rapid  and  ceaseless  whirl,  shot  through  the  brain  of 
Fagin,  as  every  evil  thought  and  blackest  purpose  lay  work- 
ing at  his  heart. 

He  sat  without  changing  his  attitude  in  the  least,  or  ap- 
pearing to  take  the  smallest  heed  of  time,  until  his  quick  ear 
seemed  to  be  attracted  by  a  footstep  in  the  street. 


358  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  At  last,"  he  muttered,  wiping  his  dry  and  fevered  mouth. 
"  At  last  !  " 

The  bell  rang  gently  as  he  spoke.  He  crept  up  stairs  to 
the  door,  and  presently  returned  accompanied  by  a  man 
muffled  to  the  chin,  who  carried  a  bundle  under  one  arm. 
Sitting  down  and  throwing  back  his  outer  coat,  the  man  dis- 
played the  burly  frame  of  Sikes. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  laying  the  bundle  on  the  table.  "  Take 
care  of  that,  and  do  the  most  you  can  with  it.  It's  been 
trouble  enough  to  get ;  I  thought  I  should  have  been  here 
three  hours  ago."  • 

Fagin  laid  his  hand  upon  the  bundle,  and  locking  it  in  the 
cupboard,  sat  down  again  without  speaking.  But  he  did 
not  take  his  eyes  off  the  robber  for  an  instant  during  this 
action;  and  now  that  they  sat  over  against  each  other,  face 
to  face,  he  looked  fixedly  at  him,  with  his  lips  quivering  so 
violently,  and  his  face  so  altered  by  the  emotions  which 
had  mastered  him,  that  the  house-breaker  involuntarily 
drew  back  his  chair,  and  surveyed  him  with  a  look  of  real 
affright. 

"Wot  now  ?"  cried  Sikes.  "Wot  do  you  look  at  a  man  so 
for?" 

Fagin  raised  his  right  hand  and  shook  his  trembling  fore- 
finger in  the  air  ;  but  his  passion  was  so  great  that  the 
power  of  speech  was  for  the  moment  gone. 

"  Damme  !  "  said  Sikes,  feeling  in  his  breast  with  a  look  of 
alarm.    "  He's  gone  mad.     I  must  look  to  myself  here." 

"No,  no,"  rejoined  Fagin,  finding  his  voice.  "It's  not 
— you're  not  the  person,  Bill.  I've  no — no  fault  to  find  with 
you." 

"  Oh,  you  haven't,  haven't  you  ;  "  said  Sikes,  looking 
sternly  at  him,  and  ostentatiously  passing  a  pistol  into  a 
more  convenient  pocket.  "  That's  lucky — for  one  of  us. 
Which  one  that  is,  don't  matter." 

"  I've  got  that  to  tell  you,  Bill,"  said  Fagin,  drawing  his 
chair  nearer,  "  will  make  you  worse  than  me." 

"Ay?"  returned  the  robber,  with  an  incredulous  air. 
"  Tell  away  !  Look  sharp,  or  Nance  will  think  I'm  lost." 

"  Lost  !  "  cried  Fagin.  "  She  has  pretty  well  settled  that 
in  her  own  mind  already." 

Sikes  looked  with  an  aspect  of  great  perplexity  into  the 
Jew's  face,  and  reading  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
riddle  there,  clenched  his  coat-collar  in  his  huge  hand  and 
shook  him  soundly. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  359 

"  Speak,  will  you  !  "  he  said;  "or,  if  you  don't,  it  shall  be 
for  want  of  breath.  Open  your  mouth  and  say  wot  you've 
got  to  say  in  plain  words.  Out  with  it,  you  thundering  old 
cur — out  with  it  !  " 

"Suppose  that  lad  that's  lying  there — "  Fagin  began. 

Sikes  turned  round  to  where  Noah  was  sleeping,  as  if  he 
had  not  previously  observed  him.  "Well  !  "  he  said,  resum- 
ing his  former  position. 

"  Suppose  that  lad,"  pursued  Fagin,  "was  to  peach — to 
blow  upon  us  all — first  seeking  out  the  right  folks  for  the 
purpose,  and  then  having  a  meeting  with  'em  in  the  street 
to  paint  our  likenesses,  describe  every  mark  that  they  might 
know  us  by,  and  the  crib  where  we  might  be  most  easily  taken. 
Suppose  he  was  to  do  all  this,  and  besides,  to  blow  upon  a 
plant  we've  all  been  in  more  or  less — of  his  own  fancy  ;  not 
grabbed,  trapped,  tried,  earwigged  by  the  parson  and 
brought  to  it  on  bread-and-water — but  of  his  own  fancy  ;  to 
please  his  own  taste  ;  stealing  out  at  nights  to  find  those 
most  interested  against  us,  'and  peaching  to  them.  Do  you 
hear  me  ? "  cried  the  Jew,  his  eyes  flashing  with  rage. 
"  Suppose  he  did  all  this,  what  then  ?" 

"  What  then  !  "  replied  Sikes,  with  a  tremendous  oath. 
"  If  he  was  left  alive  till  I  came,  I'd  grind  his  skull  under 
the  iron  heel  of  my  boot  into  as  many  grains  as  there  are 
hairs  upon  his  head." 

"  What  if  I  did  it  !  "  cried  Fagin,  almost  in  a  yell.  "  7, 
that  know  so  much,  and  could  hang  so  many  besides  my- 
self !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Sikes,  clenching  his  teeth  and 
turning  white  at  the  mere  suggestion.  "  I'd  do  something 
in  the  jail  that  'ud  get  me  put  in  irons  ;  and  if  I  was  tried 
along  with  you,  I'd  fall  upon  you  with  them  in  the  open 
court,  and  beat  your  brains  out  afore  the  people.  I  should 
have  such  strength,"  muttered  the  robber%  poising  his 
brawny  arm,  "  that  I  could  smash  your  head  as  if  a  loaded 
wagon  had  gone  over  it." 

"  You  would  ?  " 

"  Would  I  !  "  said  the  house-breaker.     "  Try  me." 

"  If  it  was  Charley,  or  the  Dodger,  or  Bet,  or " 

"I  don't  care  who,"  replied  Sikes,  impatiently.  "  Who- 
ever it  was,  I'd  serve  them  the  same." 

Fagin  looked  hard  at  the  robber  ;  and,  motioning  him  to 
be  silent,  stooped  over  the  bed  upon  the  floor  and  shook  the 


36o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

sleeper  to  rouse  him.  Sikes  leaned  forward  in  his  chair, 
looking  on  with  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  as  if  wondering 
much  what  all  this  questioning  and  preparation  was  to  end 
in. 

"  Bolter,  Bolter !  Poor  lad  !  "  said  Fagin,  looking  up 
with  an  expression  of  devilish  anticipation,  and  speaking 
slowly  and  with  marked  emphasis.  "  He's  tired — tired  with 
watching  for  her  so  long — watching  for  her,  Bill." 

"  Wot  d'ye  mean  !  "  asked  Sikes,  drawing  back. 

Fagin  made  no  answer,  but  bending  over  the  sleeper  again, 
hauled  him  into  a  sitting  posture.  When  his  assumed  name 
had  been  repeated  several  times,  Noah  rubbed  his  eyes,  and, 
giving  a  heavy  yawn,  looked  sleepily  about  him. 

"  Tell  me  that  again — once  again,  just  for  him  to  hear," 
said  the  Jew,  pointing  to  Sikes  as  he  spoke, 

"  Tell  yer  what  ?  "  asked  the  sleepy  Noah,  shaking  himself 
pettishly. 

"  That  about — Nancy,"  said  Fagin,  clutching  Sikes  by  the 
wrist,  as  if  to  prevent  his  leaving  the  house  before  he  had 
heard  enough.     "  You  followed  her  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  To  London  Bridge  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Where  she  met  two  people  ?  " 

"  So  she  did." 

"  A  gentleman  and  lady  that  she  had  gone  to  of  her  own 
accord  before,  who  asked  her  to  give  up  all  her  pals, 
and  Monks  first,  which  she  did — and  to  describe  him, 
which  she  did — and  to  tell  her  what  house  it  was 
that  we  meet  at,  and  go  to,  which  she  did — and  where  it 
could  be  best  watched  from,  which  she  did — and  what  time 
the  people  went  there,  which  she  did.  She  did  all  this.  She 
told  it  all,  every  word,  without  a  threat,  without  a  murmur 
— she  did — did  she  not  ?  "  cried  Fagin,  half  mad  with  fury. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Noah,  scratching  his  head.  "  That's 
just  what  it  was  !  " 

"  What  did  they  say  about  last  Sunday  ?  " 

"  About  last  Sunday  ?  "  replied  Noah,  considering.  "  Why 
I  told  yer  that  before." 

"  Again.  Tell  it  again  !  "  cried  Fagin,  tightening  his  grasp 
on  Sikes,  and  brandishing  his  other  hand  aloft,  as  the  foam 
flew  from  his  lips. 

"  They  asked  her,"  said  Noah,  who,  as  he  grew  more  wake- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  361 

ful,  seemed  to  have  a  dawning  perception  who  Sikes  was, 
"  they  asked  her  why  she  didn't  come  last  Sunday,  as  she 
promised.     She  said  she  couldn't." 

"  Why— why  ?     Tell  him  that." 

"  Because  she  was  forcibly  kept  at  home  by  Bill,  the  man 
she  had  told  them  of  before,"  replied  Noah. 

"  What  more  of  him  ?  "  cried  Fagin.  "  What  more  of  the 
man  she  had  told  them  of  before  ?  Tell  him  that,  tell  him 
that." 

"  Why,  that  she  couldn't  very  easily  get  out-of-doors  un- 
less he  knew  where  she  was  going  to,"  said  Noah  ;  "and  so 
the  first  time  she  went  to  see  the  lady,  she — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  it 
made  me  laugh  when  she  said  it,  that  it  did — she  gave  him  a 
drink  of  laudanum  !  " 

"  Hell's  fire  !  "  cried  Sikes,  breaking  fiercely  from  the  Jew,,. 
"  Let  me  go  !  " 

Flinging  the  old  man  from  him,  he  rushed  from  the  room, 
and  darted  wildly  and  furiously  up  the  stairs. 

"  Bill,  Bill !  "  cried  Fagin,  following  him  hastily.  "  A 
word.     Only  a  word." 

The  word  would  not  have  been  exchanged,  but  that  the 
house-breaker  was  unable  to  open  the  door,  on  which  he  was 
expending  fruitless  oaths  and  violence,  when  the  Jew  came 
panting  up. 

M  Let  me  out !  "  said  Sikes.  "  Don't  speak  to  me  ;  it's  not 
safe.     Let  me  out,  1  say  !  " 

"Hear  me  speak  a  word,"  rejoined  Fagin,  laying  his  hand 
upon  the  lock.     "You  won't  be " 

"Well,"  replied  the  other. 

"  You  won't  be — too — violent,  Bill  ?  " 

The  day  was  breaking,  and  there  was  light  enough  for  the 
men  to  see  each  other's  faces.  They  exchanged  one  brief 
glance  ;  there  was  a  fire  in  the  eyes  of  both  which  could  not 
be  mistaken. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Fagin,  showing  that  he  felt  all  disguise  was 
now  useless,  "not  too  violent  for  safety.  Be  crafty,  Bill,  and 
not  too  bold." 

Sikes  made  no  reply ;  but,  pulling  open  the  door  of 
which  Fagin  had  turned  the  lock,  dashed  into  the  silent 
streets. 

Without  one  pause,  or  moment's  consideration  ;  without 
once  turning  his  head  to  the  right  or  left,  or  raising  his  eyes 
to  the  sky,  or   lowering   them  to  the  ground,  but  looking 


362  OLIVER  TWIST. 

straight  betore  him  with  savage  resolution,  his  teeth  so  tight- 
ly compressed  that  the  strained  jaw  seemed  starting  through 
his  skin,  the  robber  held  on  his  headlong  course,  nor  mut- 
tered a  word,  nor  relaxed  a  muscle,  until  he  reached  his  own 
door.  He  opened  it  softly  with  a  key,  strode  lightly  up  the 
stairs,  and,  entering  his  own  room,  double-locked  the  door, 
and  lifting  a  heavy  table  against  it,  drew  back  the  curtain  of 
the  bed. 

The  girl  was  lying,  half-dressed,  upon  it.  He  had  roused 
her  from  her  sleep,  for  she  raised  herself  with  a  hurried  and 
startled  look. 

"  Get  up  !  "  said  the  man. 

"  It  is  you,  Bill  !  "  said  the  girl,  with  an  expression  of  pleas- 
ure at  his  return. 

"  It  is,"  was  the  reply.     "  Get  up  !  " 
. .  There  was  a  candle  burning,  but   the  man  hastily  drew  it 
from  the  candlestick  and  hurled  it  under  the  grate.     Seeing 
the  faint  light  of  early  day  without,  the  girl  rose  to   undraw 
the  curtain. 

"Let  it  be,"  said  Sikes,  thrusting  his  hand  before  her. 
"  There's  light  enough  for  wot  I've  got  to  do." 

"Bill,"  said  the  girl,  in  the  low  voice  of  alarm,  "why  do 
you  look  like  that  at  me  ? " 

The  robber  sat  regarding  her  for  a  few  seconds  with  dilated 
nostrils  and  heaving  breast  ;  and  then,  grasping  her  by  the 
head  and  throat,  dragged  her  into,  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  looking  once  toward  the  door,  placed  his  heavy  hand 
upon  her  mouth. 

"  Bill !  Bill  !  "  gasped  the  girl,  wrestling  with  the  strength 
of  mortal  fear — "  I — I  won't  scream  or  cry — not  once — hear 
me — speak  to  me — tell  me  what  I  have  done." 

"  You  know,  you  she-devil  !  "  returned  the  robber,  sup- 
pressing his  breath.  "  You  were  watched  to-night  ;  every 
word  you  said  was  heard." 

"  Then  spare  my  life  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  as  I  spared 
yours,"  rejoined  the  girl,  clinging  to  him.  "Bill,  dear  Bill, 
you  can  not  have  the  heart  to  kill  me  !  Oh  !  think  of  all  I 
have  given  up,  only  this  one  night,  for  you.  You  shall  have 
time  to  think,  and  save  yourself  this  crime  ;  I  will  not  loose 
my  hold,  you  can  not  throw  me  off.  Bill,  Bill,  for  dear  God's 
sake,  for  your  own,  for  mine,  stop  before  you  spill  my  blood  ! 
I  have  been  true  to  you,  upon  my  guilty  soul  I  have  !  " 

The  man  struggled  violently  to  release  his  arms  ;  but  those 


OLIVER  TWIST.  363 

of  the  girl  were  clasped  round  his,  and.  tear  her  as  he  would, 
he  could  not  tear  them  away. 

"Bill,"  cried  the  girl,  striving  to  lay  her  head  upon  his 
breast,  "  the  gentleman  and  that  dear  lady  told  me  to-night 
of  a  home  in  some  foreign  country  where  I  could  end  my 
days  in  solitude  and  peace.  Let  me  see  them  again,  and  beg 
them  on  my  knees  to  show  the  same  mercy  and  goodness  to 
you  ;  and  let  us  both  leave  this  dreadful  place,  and,  far  apart, 
lead  better  lives,  and  forget  how  we  have  lived,  except  in 
prayers,  and  never  see  each  other  more.  It  is  never  too  late 
to  repent.  They  told  me  so — I  feel  it  now  ;  but  we  must 
have  time — a  little,  little  time  !  " 

The  house-breaker  freed  one  arm,  and  grasped  his  pistol. 
The  certainty  of  immediate  detection  if  he  fired,  flashed  across 
his  mind  even  in  the  midst  of  his  fury,  and  he  beat  it  twice, 
with  all  the  force  he  could  summon',  upon  the  upturned f  ce 
that  almost  touched  his  own. 

She  staggered  and  fell,  nearly  blinded  with  the  blood  that 
rained  down  from  a  deep  gash  in  her  forehead  ;  but  raising 
herself  with  difficulty  on  her  knees,  drew  from  her  bosom  a 
white  handkerchief — Rose  Maylie's  own — and  holding  it  up, 
in  her  folded  hands,  as  high  toward  heaven  as  her  feeble 
strength  would  allow,  breathed  one  prayer  for  mercy  to  her 
Maker. 

It  was  a  ghastly  figure  to  look  upon.  The  murderer  stag- 
gering backward  to  the  walj,  and  shutting  out  the  sight  with 
his  hand,  seized  a  heavy  club  and  struck  her  down. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE     FLIGHT     OF     SIKES 

Of  all  bad  deeds  that,  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  had 
been  committed  within  wide  London's  bounds  since  night 
hung  over  it,  that  was  the  worst.  Of  all  the  horrors  that 
rose  with  an  ill  scent  upon  the  morning  air,  that  was  the 
foulest  and  most  cruel. 

The  sun — the  bright  sun,  that  brings  back,  not  light  alone, 
but  new  life,  and  hope,  and  freshness  to  man — burst  upon 
the  crowded  city  in  clear  and  radiant  glory.     Through  costly 


364  OLIVER  TWIST. 

colored  glass  and  paper-mended  window,  through  cathedral 
dome  and  rotten  crevice,  it  shed  its  equal  ray.  It  lighted 
up  the  room  where  the  murdered  woman  lay.  It  did.  He 
tried  to  shut  it  out,  but  it  would  stream  in.  If  the  sight  had 
been  a  ghastly  one  in  the  dull  morning,  what  was  it  now,  in 
all  that  "brilliant  light  ? 

He  had  not  moved  ;  he  had  been  afraid  to  stir.  There 
had  been  a  moan  and  motion  of  the  hand,  and,  with  terror 
added  to  rage,  he  had  struck  and  struck  again.  Once  he 
threw  a  rug  over  it  ;  but  it  was  worse  to  fancy  the  eyes,  and 
imagine  them  moving  toward  him,  than  to  see  them  glaring 
upward,  as  if  watching  the  reflection  of  the  pool  of  gore  that 
quivered  and  danced  in  the  sunlight  on  the  ceiling.  He  had 
plucked  it  off  again.  And  there  was  the  body^-mere  flesh 
and  blood,  no  more — but  such  flesh,  and  so  much  blood  ! 

He  struck  a  light,  kindled  the  fire,  and  thrust  the  club 
into  it.  There  was  hair  upon  the  end,  which  blazed  and 
shrunk  into  a  light  cinder,  and,  caught  by  the  air,  whirled  up 
the  chimney.  Even  that  frightened  him,  sturdy  as  he  was  ; 
but  he  held  the  weapon  till  it  broke,  and  then  piled  it  on  the 
coals  to  burn  away,  and  smoulder  into  ashes.  He  washed 
himself,  and  rubbed  his  clothes  ;  there  were  spots  that  would 
not  be  removed,  but  he  cut  the  pieces  out,  and  burned  them. 
How  those  stains  were  dispersed  about  the  room  !  The 
very  feet  of  the  dog  were  bloody. 

All  this  time  he  had  never  once,  turned  his  back  upon  the 
corpse  ;  no,  not  for  a  moment.  Such  preparations  com- 
pleted, he  moved  backward  toward  the  door,  dragging  the 
dog  with  him,  lest  he  should  soil  his  feet  anewr  and  carry  out 
new  evidences  of  the  crime  into  the  streets.  He  shut  the 
door  softly,  locked  it,  took  the  key,  and  left  the  house. 

He  crossed  over,  and  glanced  up  at  the  window,  to  be 
sure  that  nothing  was  visible  from  the  outside.  There  was 
the  curtain  still  drawn,  which  she  would  have  opened  to  ad- 
mit the  light  she  never  saw  again.  It  lay  nearly  under  there. 
He  knew  that.  God,  how  the  sun  poured  down  upon  the 
very  spot ! 

The  glance  was  instantaneous.  It  was  a  relief  to  have  got 
free  of  the  room.  He  whistled  on  the  dog,  and  walked 
rapidly  away. 

He  went  through  Islington;  strode  up  the  hill  at  High- 
gate  on  which  stands  the  stone  in  honor  of  Whittington; 
turned  down  to  Highgate  Hill,  unsteady  of  purpose,  and  un- 


OLIVER  TWIST.  365 

certain  where  to  go  ;  struck  off  to  the  right  again  almost  as 
soon  as  he  began  to  descend  it  ;  and  taking  the  footpath 
across  the  fields,  skirted  Caen  Wood,  and  so  came  out  on 
Hampstead  Heath.  Traversing  the  hollow  by  the  Vale  of 
Health,  he  mounted  the  opposite  bank,  and,  crossing  the 
road  which  joins  the  villages  of  Hampstead  and  Highgate, 
made  along  the  remaining  portion  of  the  Heath  to  the  fields 
at  North  End,  in  one  of  which  he  laid  himself  down  under 
a  hedge  and  slept. 

Soon  lie  was  up  again  and  away — not  far  into  the  country, 
but  back  toward  London  by  the  high  road — then  back 
again — then  over  another  part  of  the  same  ground  as  he  had 
already  traversed — then  wandering  up  and  down  in  fields, 
and  lying  on  ditches'  brinks  to  rest,  and  starting  up  to 
make  for  some  other  spot  and  do  the  same,  and  ramble  on 
again. 

Where  could  he  go  that  was  near  and  not  too  public,  to 
get  some  meat  and  drink  ?  Hendon.  That  was  a  good 
place,  not  far  off,  and  out  of  most  people's  way.  Thither  he 
directed  li is  steps — running  sometimes,  and  sometimes,  with 
a  strange  perversity,  loitering  at  a  snail's  pace,  or  stopping 
altogether  and  idly  breaking  the  hedges  with  his  stick.  But 
when  he  got  there,  all  the  people  he  met — the  very  children 
at  the  doors — seemed  to  view  him  with  suspicion.  Back  he 
turned  again,  without  the  courage  to  purchase  bit  or  drop, 
though  he  had  tasted  no  food  for  many  hours;  and  once 
more  he  lingered  on  the  Heath,  uncertain  where  to  go. 

He  wandered  over  miles  and  miles  of  ground,  and  still 
came  back  to  the  old  place.  Morning  and  noon  had  passed, 
and  the  day  was  on  the  wane,  and  still  he  rambled  to  and 
fro,  and  up  and  down,  and  round  and  round,  and  still  lin- 
gered about  the  same  spot.  At  last  he  got  away,  and  shaped 
his  course  for  Hatfield. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  at  night,  when  the  man,  quite  tired 
out,  and  the  dog,  limping  and  lame  from  the  unaccustomed 
exercise,  turned  down  the  hill  by  the  church  of  the  quiet 
village,  and  plodding  along  the  little  street,  crept  into  a 
small  public-house,  whose  scanty  light  had  guided  them  to 
the  spot.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  tap-room,  and  some  coun- 
try-laborers were  drinking  before  it.  They  made  room  for 
the  stranger,  but  he  sat  down  in  the  furthest  corner,  and  ate 
and  drank  alone,  or  rather  with  his  dog,  to  whom  he  cast  a 
morsel  of  food  from  time  to  time. 


3*5  OLIVER  TWIST. 

The  conversation  of  the  men  assembled  here  turned  upon 
the  neighboring  land  and  farmers  ;  and  when  those  topics 
were  exhausted,  upon  the  age  of  some  old  man  who  had 
been  buried  on  the  previous  Sunday  ;  the  young  men  pres- 
ent considering  him  very  old,  and  the  old  men  present  de- 
claring him  to  have  been  quite  young — not  older,  one  white 
haired  grandfather  said,  than  he  was — with  ten  or  fifteen 
year  of  life  in  him  at  least — if  he  had  taken  care  ;  if  he  had 
taken  care. 

There  was  nothing  to  attract  attention  or  excite  alarm  in 
this.  The  robber,  after  paying  his  reckoning,  sat  silent  and 
unnoticed  in  his  corner,  and  had  almost  dropped  asleep, 
when  he  was  half  awakened  by  the  noisy  entrance  of  a  new- 
comer. 

This  was  an  antic  fellow,  half  peddler  and  half  mounte- 
bank, who  traveled  about  the  country  on  foot  to  vend  hones, 
strops,  razors,  wash-balls,  harness-paste,  medicine  for  dogs 
and  horses,  cheap  perfumery,  cosmetics,  and  such-like  wares, 
which  he  carried  in  a  case  slung  to  his  back.  His  entrance 
was  the  signal  for  various  homely  jokes  with  the  country- 
men, which  slackened  not  until  he  had  made  his  supper,  and 
opened  his  box  of  treasures,  when  he  ingeniously  contrived 
to  unite  business  with  amusement. 

"  And  what  be  that  stoof  ?  Good  to  eat,  Harry  ? "  asked  a 
grinning  countryman,  pointing  to  some  composition-cakes  in 
one  corner. 

"  This,"  said  the  fellow,  producing  one,  "  this  is  the  infal- 
lible and  invaluable  composition  for  removing  all  sorts  of 
stain,  rust,  dirt,  mildew,  spick,  speck,  spot,  or  spatter,  from 
silk,  satin,  linen,  cambric,  cloth,  crape,  stuff,  carpet,  merino, 
muslin,  bombazine,  or  woolen  stuff.  Wine-stains,  fruit-stains, 
beer-stains,  water-stains,  paint-stains,  pitch-stains,  any  stains, 
all  come  out  at  one  rub  with  the  infallible  and  invaluable  com- 
position. If  a  lady  stains  her  honor,  she  has  only  need  to 
swallow  one  cake,  and  she's  cured  at  once — for  it's  poison. 
If  a  gentleman  wants  to  prove  this,  he  has  only  need  to  bolt 
one  little  square,  and  he  has  put  it  beyond  question — for  it's 
quite  as  satisfactory  as  a  pistol-bullet,  and  a  great  deal  nas- 
tier in  the  flavor,  consequently  the  more  credit  in  taking 
it.  One  penny  a  square.  With  all  these  virtues,  one  penny 
a  square ! " 

There  were  two  buyers  directly,  and  more  of  the  listeners 
plainly  hesitated.  The  vender  observing  this,  increased  in 
loquacity. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  367 

"It's  all  bought  up  as  fast  as  it  can  be  made,"  said  the 
fellow.  "  There  are  fourteen  water-mills,  six  steam  engines, 
and  a  galvanic  battery,  always  a-working  upon  it,  and  they 
can't  make  it  fast  enough,  though  the  men  work  so  hard  that 
they  die  off,  and  the  widows  is  pensioned  directly,  with  twenty 
pound  a  year  for  each  of  the  children,  and  a  premium  of  fifty 
for  twins.  One  penny  a  square  !  Two  half-pence  is  all  the 
same,  and  four  farthings  is  received  with  joy.  One  penny 
a  square  !  Wine-stains,  fruit-stains,  beer-stains,  water-stains, 
paint-stains,  pitch-stains,  mud-stains,  blood-stains  !  Here  is 
a  stain  upon  the  hat  of  a  gentleman  in  company  that  I'll 
take  clean  out  before  he  can  order  me  a  pint  of  ale." 

"  Hah  !  "  cried  Sikes,  starting  up.     "  Give  that  back  !  " 

6i  I'll  take  it  clean  out,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  winking 
to  the  company,  "  before  you  can  come  across  the  room  to 
get  it.  Gentlemen  all,  observe  the  dark  stain  upon  the  gen- 
tleman's hat,  no  wider  than  a  shilling,  but  thicker  than  a 
half-crown.  Whether  it  is  wine-stain,  fruit-stain,  beer-stain, 
water-stain,  paint-stain,  pitch-stain,  mud-stain,  or  blood- 
stain— " 

The  man  got  no  further,  for  Sikes,  with  a  hideous  impre- 
cation, overthrew  the  table,  and,  tearing  the  hat  from  him., 
burst  out  of  the  house. 

'With  the  same  perversity  of  feeling  and  irresolution  that 
had  fastened  -upon  him,  despite  himself,  all  day,  the  mur- 
derer, finding  that  he  was  not  followed,  and  that  they  most 
probably  considered  him  some  drunken,  sullen  fellow,  turned 
back  up  the  town,  and  getting  out  of  the  glare  of  the  lamps 
of  a  stage-coach  that  was  standing  in  the  street,  was  walking 
past,  when  he  recognized  the  mail  from  London,  and  saw 
that  it  was  standing  at  the  little  post-office.  He  almost  knew 
what  was  to  come  ;  but  he  crossed  over,  and  listened. 

The  guard  was  standing  at  the  door,  waiting  for  the  letter- 
bag.  A  man,  dressed  like  a  gamekeeper,  came  up  at  the 
moment,  and  he  handed  him  a  basket  which  lay  ready  on  the 
pavement. 

"  That's  for  your  people,"  said  the  guard,  "  Now  look 
alive  in  there,  will  you  !  D —  that  'ere  bag,  it  warn't  ready 
night  afore  last  ;  this  won't  do,  you  know  !  " 

"Anything  new  up  in  town,  Ben  ?"  asked  the  gamekeeper, 
drawing  back  to  the  window-shutters,  the  better  to  admire 
the  horses. 

"  No,  nothing  that  I  knows  on,"  replied  the  man  pulling 


368  OLIVER  TWIST. 

on  his  gloves.  "  Corn's  up  a  little.  I  heerd  talk  of  a  mur- 
der, too,  down  Spitalfields  way,  but  1  don't  reckon  much 
upon  it." 

"Oh,  that's  quite  true,"  said  a  gentleman  inside,  who  was 
looking  out  of  the  window.  "And  a  dreadful  murder  it 
was." 

"  Was  it,  sir  ?  "  rejoined  the  guard,  touching  his  hat.  "  Man 
or  woman,  pray,  sir  ?  " 

"A  woman,"  replied  the  gentleman.     "  It  is  supposed — " 

"  Now  Ben  !  "  cried  the  coachman  impatiently. 

"  D —  that  'ere  bag,"  said  the  guard  ;  '-  are  you  gone  to 
sleep  in  there  ?  " 

"Coming  !  "  cried  the  office-keeper,  running  out. 

"Coming!"  growled  the  guard.  "Ah,  so's  the  young 
ooman  of  property  that's  going  to  take  a  fancy  to  me,  but 
I   don't   know  when.     Here,  give  hold.     All  ri — ight  !  " 

The  horn  sounded  a  few  cheerful  notes,  and  the  coach 
was  gone. 

Sikes  remained  standing  in  the  street,  apparently  unmoved 
by  what  he  had  just  heard,  and  agitated  by  no  stronger  feel- 
ing than  a  doubt  where  to  go.  At  length  he  went  back  again, 
and  took  the  road  which  leads  from  Hatfield  to  St.  Albans. 

He  went  on  doggedly  ;  but  as  he  left  the  town  behind  him, 
and  plunged  into  the  solitude  and  darkness  of  the  road,  he 
felt  a  dread  and  awe  creeping  upon  him  which. shook  him  to 
the  core.  Every  object  before  him,  substance  or  shadow, 
still  or  moving,  took  the  semblance  of  some  fearful  thing  ; 
but  these  fears  were  nothing  compared  to  the  sense  that 
haunted  him  of  that  morning's  ghastly  figure  following  at 
his  heels.  He  could  trace  its  shadow  in  the  gloom,  supply 
the  smallest  item  of  the  outline,  and  note  how  stiff  and 
solemn  it  seemed  to  stalk  alone.  He  could  hear  its  gar- 
ments rustling  in  the  leaves,  and  every  breath  of  wind  came 
laden  with  that  last  low  cry.  If  he  stopped,  it  did  the 
same.  If  he  ran,  it  followed — not  running  too  ;  that  would 
have  been  a  relief  ;  but  like  a  corpse  endowed  with  the  mere 
machinery  of  life,  and  borne  on  one  slow,  melancholy  wind 
that  never  rose  or  fell. 

At  times  he  turned  with  desperate  determination,  "resolved 
to  beat  this  phantom  off,  though  it  should  look  him  dead  ; 
but  the  hair  rose  on  his  head,  and  his  blood  stood  still,  for 
it  had  turned  with  him,  and  was  behind  him  then.  He  had 
kept  it  before  him  that  morning,  but  it  was  behind  now — 


OLIVER  TWIST.  369 

always.  He  leaned  his  back  against  a  bank,  and  felt  that  it 
stood  above  him,  visibly  out  against  the  cold  night-sky.  He 
threw  himself  upon  the  road — on  his  back  upon  the  road. 
At  his  head  it  stood,  silent,  erect,  and  still — a  living  grave- 
stone, with  its  epitaph  in  blood. 

Let  no  man  talk  of  murderers  escaping  justice,  and  hint 
that  Providence  must  sleep.  There  were  twenty  score  of 
violent  deaths  in  one  long  minute  of  that  agony  of  fear. 

There  was  a  shed  in  a  field  he  passed  that  offered  shelter 
for  the  night.  Before  the  door  were  three  tall  poplar  trees, 
which  made  it  very  dark  within  ;  and  the  wind  moaned 
through  them  with  a  dismal  wail.  He  could  not  walk  until  day- 
light came  again  ;  and  here  he  stretched  himself  close  to  the 
wall — to  undergo  new  torture. 

For  now  a  vision  came  before  him,  as  constant  and  more 
terrible  than  that  from  which  he  had  escaped.  Those  widely- 
staring  eyes,  so  lusterless  and  so  glassy,  that  he  had  better 
borne  to  see  them  than  think  upon  them,  appeared  in  the 
midst  of  the  darkness,  light  in  themselves,  but  giving  light 
to  nothing.  There  were  but  two,  but  they  were  every  where.  If 
he  shut  out  the  sight,  there  came  the  room  with  every 
well-known  object — some,  indeed,  that  he  would  have  for- 
gotten if  he  had  gone  over  its  contents  from  memory — each 
in  its  accustomed  place.  The  body  was  in  its  place,  and  its 
eyes  were  as  he  saw  them  when  he  stole  away.  He  got  up 
and  rushed  into  the  field  without.  The  figure  was  behind 
him.  He  re-entered  the  shed,  and  shrunk  down  once  more. 
The  eyes  were  there,  before  he  had  lain  himself  along. 

And  here  he  remained  in  such  terror  as  none  but  he  can 
know,  trembling  in  every  limb,  and  the  cold  sweat  starting  from 
every  pore,  when  suddenly  there  arose  upon  the  night-wind 
the  noise  of  distant  shouting  and  the  roar  of  voices  mingled 
in  alarm  and  wonder.  Any  sound  of  men  in  that  lonely 
place,  even  though  it  conveyed  a  real  cause  of  alarm,  was 
something  to  him.  He  regained  his  strength  and  energy, 
at  the  prospect  of  personal  danger  ;  and  springing  to  his 
feet,  rushed  into  the  open  air. 

The  broad  sky  seemed  on  fire.  Rising  into  the  air  with 
showers  of  sparks,  and  rolling  one  above  the  other,  were 
sheets  of  flames,  lighting  the  atmosphere  for  miles  round, 
and  driving  clouds  of  smoke  in  the  direction  where  he 
stood.  The  shouts  grew  louder  as  new  voices  swelled  the 
roar,  and  he  could  hear  the  cry  of  fire,  mingled  with   the 


370  OLIVER  TWIST. 

ringing  of  an  alarm-bell,  the  fall  of  heavy  bodies,  and  the 
crackling  of  flames  as  they  twined  round  some  new 
obstacle,  and  shot  aloft  as  though  refreshed  by  food.  The 
noise  increased  as  he  looked.  There  wrere  people  there — 
men  and  women — light,  bustle.  It  was  like  new  life  to  him. 
He  darted  onward — straight,  headlong — dashing  through 
brier  and  brake,  and  leaping  gate  and  fence  as  madly  as  his 
dog,  who  careered  with  loud  and  sounding  bark  before 
him. 

He  came  upon  the  spot.  There  were  half-dressed  figures 
tearing  to  and  fro,  some  endeavoring  to  drag  the  frightened 
horses  from  the  stables,  others  driving  the  cattle  from  the 
yard  and  out-houses,  and  others  coming  laden  from  the 
burning  pile,  amidst  a  shower  of  falling  sparks  and  the 
tumbling  down  of  red-hot  beams.  The  apertures,  where 
doors  and  windows  stood  an  hour  ago,  disclosed  a  mass  of 
raging  fire  ;  walls  rocked  and  crumbled  into  the  burning 
well  ;  the  molten  lead  and  iron  poured  down,  white-hot, 
upon  the  ground.  Women  and  children  shrieked,  and  men 
encouraged  each  other  with  noisy  shouts  and  cheers.  The 
clanking  of  the  engine-pumps,  and  the  spirting  and  hissing 
of  the  water  as  it  fell  upon  the  blazing  wood,  added  to  the 
tremendous  roar.  He  shouted,  too,  till  he  was  hoarse  ;  and 
flying  from  memory  and  himself,  plunged  into  the  thickest 
of  the  throng. 

Hither  and  thither  he  dived  that  night — now  working  at 
the  pumps,  and  now  hurrying  through  the  smoke  and  flame, 
but  never  ceasing  to  engage  himself  wherever  noise  and 
men  were  thickest.  Up  and  down  the  ladders,  upon  the 
roofs  of  buildings,  over  floors  that  quaked  and  trembled 
with  his  weight,  under  the  lee  of  falling  bricks  and  stones, 
in  every  part  of  that  great  fire,  was  he  ;  but  he  bore  a 
charmed  life,  and  had  neither  scratch  nor  bruise,  nor 
weariness  nor  thought,  till  morning  dawned  again,  and 
only  smoke  and  blackened  ruins  remained. 

This  mad  excitement  over,  there  returned,  with  tenfold 
force,  the  dreadful  consciousness  of  his  crime.  He  looked 
suspiciously  about  him,  for  the  men  were  conversing  in 
groups,  and  he  feared  to  be  the  subject  of  their  talk.  The 
dog  obeyed  the  significant  beck  of  his  finger,  and  they  drew 
off,  stealthily,  together.  He  passed  near  an  engine  where 
some  men  were  seated,  and  they  called  to  him  to  share  in 
their  refreshment.     He  took  some  bread  and  meat ;  and,  as 


OLIVER  TWIST.  371 

he  drank  a  draught  of  beer,  heard  the  firemen,  who  were 
from  London,  talking  about  the  murder.  "  He  has  gone  to 
Birmingham,  they  say,"  said  one  ;  "  but  they'll  have  him 
yet,  for  the  scouts  are  out,  and  by  to-morrow  night  there'll 
be  a  cry  all  through  the  country." 

He  hurried  off,  and  walked  till  he  almost  dropped  upon 
the  ground  ;  then  lay  down  in  a  lane,  and  had  a  long,  but 
broken  and  uneasy  sleep.  He  wandered  on  again,  irresolute 
and  undecided,  and  oppressed  with  the  fear  of  another  soli- 
tary night. 

Suddenly,  he  took  the  desperate  resolution  of  going  back 
to  London. 

"  There's  somebody  to  speak  to  there,  at  all  events,"  he 
thought.  <l  A  good  hiding-place,  too.  They'll  never  ex- 
pect to  nab  me  there,  after  this  country  scent.  Why  can't  I 
lie  by  for  a  week  or  so,  and,  forcing  blunt  from  Fagin,  get 
abroad  to  France  ?     Damme,  I'll  risk  it." 

He  acted  upon  this  impulse  without  delay,  and  choosing 
the  least  frequented  roads,  began  his  journey  back,  re- 
solved to  lie  concealed  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
metropolis,  and,  entering  it  at  dusk  by  a  circuitous  route,  to 
proceed  straight  to  that  part  of  it  which  he  had  fixed  on  for 
his  destination. 

The  dog,  though.  If  any  descriptions  of  him  were  out,  it 
would  not  be  forgotten  that  the  dog  was  missing,  and  had 
probably  gone  with  him.  This  might  lead  to  his  apprehen- 
sion as  he  passed  along  the  streets.  He  resolved  to  drown 
him,  and  walked  on,  looking  about  for  a  pond,  picking  up 
a  heavy  stone  and  tying  it  to  his  handkerchief  as  he  went. 

The  animal  looked  up  into  his  master's  face  while  these 
preparations  were  making  :  whether  his  instinct  appre- 
hended something  of  their  purpose,  or  the  robber's  sidelong 
loojc  at  him  was  sterner  than  ordinary,  he  skulked  a  little 
further  in  the  rear  than  usual,  and  cowered  as  he  came  more 
slowly  along.  When  his  master  halted  at  the  brink  of  a 
pool,  and  looked  round  to  call  him,  he  stopped  outright. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  call  ?     Come  here  !  "  cried  Sikes. 

The  animal  came  up  from  the  very  force  of  habit  ;  but  as 
Sikes  stooped  to  attach  the  handkerchief  to  his  throat,  he 
uttered  a  low  growl  and  started  back. 

u  Come  back  !  "  said  the  robber. 

The  dog  wagged  his  tail,  but  moved  not.  Sikes  made  a 
running  noose  and  called  him  again. 


372  OLIVER  TWIST. 

The  dog  advanced,  retreated,  paused  an  instant,  turned, 
and  scoured  away  at  his  hardest  speed. 

The  man  whistled  again  and  again,  and  sat  down  and 
waited  in  the  expectation  that  he  would  return.  But  no  dog 
appeared,  and  at  length  he  resumed  his  journey. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 

y 

MONKS  AND  MR.  BROWNLOW  AT  LENGTH  MEET.  THEIR 
CONVERSATION,  AND  THE  INTELLIGENCE  THAT  INTER- 
RUPTS   IT. 

The  twilight  was  beginning  to  close  in,  when  Mr.  Brown- 
low  alighted  from  a  hackney-coach  at  his  own  door,  and 
knocked  softly.  The  door  being  opened,  a  sturdy  man  got 
out  of  the  coach  and  stationed  himself  on  one  side  of  the 
steps,  while  another  man,  who  had  been  seated  on  the  box, 
dismounted  too,  and  stood  upon  the  other  side.  At  a  sign 
from  Mr.  Brown-low  they  helped  out  a  third  man,  and  taking 
him  between  them,  hurried  him  into  the  house.  This  man 
was  Monks. 

They  walked  in  the  same  manner  up  the  stairs,  without 
speaking  ;  and  Mr.  Brownlow,  preceding  them,  led  the  way 
into  a  back-room.  At  the  door  of  this  apartment  Monks, 
who  had  ascended  with  evident  reluctance,  stopped.  The 
two  men  looked  to  the  old  gentleman  as  if  for  instructions. 

"  He  knows  the  alternative,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  If  he 
hesitates  or  moves  a  finger,  but  as  you  bid  him,  drag  him  into 
the  street,  call  for  the  aid  of  the  police,  and  impeach  him  as 
a  felon  in  my  name." 

"  How  dare  you  say  this  of  me  ?  "  asked  Monks. 

"  How  dare  you  urge  me  to  it,  young  man  ? "  replied  Mr. 
Brownlow,  confronting  him  with  a  steady  look.  "  Are  you 
mad  enough  to  leave  this  house  ?  Unhand  him.  There,  sir. 
You  are  free  to  go,  and  we  to  follow.  But  I  warn  you,  by 
all  I  hold  most  solemn  and  most  sacred,  that  the  instant  you 
set  foot  in  the  street,  that  instant  will  I  have  you  appre- 
hended on  a  charge  of  fraud  and  robbery.  I  am  resolute 
and  immovable.  If  you  are  determined  to  be  the  same, 
your  blood  be  upon  your  own  head  !  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  373 

''By  what  authority  am  I  kidnapped  in  ine  street,  and 
brought  here  by  these  dogs  ?  "  asked  Monks,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  men  who  stood  beside  him. 

"  By  mine,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  Those  persons  are 
indemnified  by  me.  If  you  complain  of  being  deprived  of 
your  liberty — you  had  power  and  opportunity  to  retrieve  it 
as  you  came  along,  but  you  deemed  it  advisable  to  remain 
quiet — I  say  again,  throw  yourself  for  protection  on  the  law. 
I  will  appeal  to  the  law  too  ;  but  when  yon  have  gone  too 
far  to  recede,  do  not  sue  to  me  for  leniency,  when  the  power 
will  have  passed  into  other  hands ;  and  do  not  say  I 
plunged  you  down  the  gulf  into  which  you  rushed  your- 
self." 

Monks  was  plainly  disconcerted,  and  alarmed  besides. 
He  hesitated. 

"  You  will  decide  quickly,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  with  per- 
fect firmness  and  composure.  "  If  you  wish  me  to  prefer  my 
charges  publicly,  and  consign  you  to  a  punishment  the  ex- 
tent of  which,  although  I  can,  with  a  shudder,  foresee,  I 
can  not  control — once  more,  I  say,  you  know  the  way.  If 
not,  and  you  appeal  to  my  forbearance  and  the  mercy  of 
those  you 'have  deeply  injured,  seat  yourself,  without  a  word, 
in  that  chair.     It  has  waited  for  you  two  whole  days." 

Monks  muttered  some  unintelligible  words,  but  wavered 
still. 

"  You  will  be  prompt,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  A  word 
from  me,  and  the  alternative  has  gone  forever." 

Still  the  man  hesitated. 

"  I  have  not  the  inclination  to  parley,"  said  Mr.  Brown- 
low, "and,  as  I  advocate  the  dearest  interests  of  others,  I 
have  not  the  right." 

"  Is  there — "  demanded  Monks,  with  a  faltering  tongue — 
"  is  there — no  middle  course  ?  " 

"  None." 

Monks  looked  at  the  old  gentleman  with  an  anxious  eye  ; 
but  reading  in  his  countenance  nothing  but  severity  and  de- 
termination, walked  into  the  room,  and,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  sat  down. 

"  Lock  the  door  on  the  outside,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow  to 
the  attendants,  "  and  come  when  I  ring." 

The  men  obeyed,  and  the  two  were  left  alone  together. 

"  This  is  pretty  treatment,  sir,"  said  Monks,  throwing 
down  his  hat  and  cloak,  "  from  my  father's  oldest  friend." 


374  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  It  is  because  I  was  your  father's  oldest  friend,  young 
man,"  returned  Mr.  Brownlow  ;  "  it  is  because  the  hopes 
and  wishes  of  young  and  happy  years  were  bound  up  with 
him  and  that  fair  creature  of  his  blood  and  kindred  who  re- 
joined her  God  in  youth,  and  left  me  here  a  solitary,  lonely 
man  ;  it  is  because  he  kneeled  with  me  beside  his  only  sister's 
death-bed  when  he  was  yet  a  boy,  on  the  morning  that 
would — but  Heaven  willed  otherwise — have  made  her  my 
young  wife  ;  it  is  because  my  seared  heart  clung  to  him, 
from  that  time  forth,  through  all  his  trials  and  errors,  till  he 
died  ;  it  is  because  old  recollections  and  associations  filled 
my  heart,  and  even  the  sight  of  you  brings  with  it  old 
thoughts  of  him  ;  it  is  because  of  all  these  things  that  I  am 
moved  to  treat  you  gently  now — yes,  Edward  Leeford,  even 
now — and  blush  for  your  unworthiness  who  bear  the  name." 

"  What  has  the  name  to  do  with  it  ?  "  asked  the  other, 
after  contemplating,  half  in  silence,  and  half  in  dogged  won- 
der, the  agitation  of  his  companion.  "  What  is  the  name  to 
me?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow;  "nothing  to  you. 
But  it  was  hers,  and,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  brings 
back  to  me,  an  old  man,  the  glow  and  thrill  which  I  once 
felt,  only  to  hear  it  repeated  by  a  stranger.  I  am  very  glad 
you  have  changed  it — very — very." 

"  This  is  all  mighty  fine,"  said  Monks  (to  retain  his  as- 
sumed designation),  after  a  long  silence,  during  which  he 
had  jerked  himself  in  sullen  defiance  to  and  fro,  and  Mr. 
Brownlow  had  sat  shading  his  face  with  his  hand.  "  But 
what  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  brother,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  rousing  him- 
self— "a  brother,  the  whisper  of  whose  name  in  your  ear 
when  I  came  behind  you  in  the  street  was,  in  itself,  almost 
enough  to  make  you  accompany  me  hither,  in  wonder  and 
alarm." 

"  I  have  no  brother,"  replied  Monks.  "You  know  I  was 
an  only  child.  Why  do  you  talk  to  me  of  brothers  ?  You 
know  that,  as  well  as  I." 

"  Attend  to  what  I  do  know,  and  you  may  not,"  said  Mr. 
Brownlow.  "  I  shall  interest  you  by-and-by.  I  know  that 
of  the  wretched  marriage  into  which  family  pride,  and  the 
most  sordid  and  narrowest  of  all  ambition,  forced  your  un- 
happy father  when  a  mere  boy,  you  were  the  sole  and  most 
unnatural  issue." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  375 

"  I  don't  care  for  hard  names,"  interrupted  Monks,  with 
a  jeering  laugh.  "  You  know  the  fact,  and  that's  enough 
for  me." 

"But  I  also  know,"  pursued  the  old  gentleman,  "the 
misery,  the  slow  torture,  the  protracted  anguish,  of  that  ill- 
assorted  union.  I  know  how  listlessly  and  wearily  each  of 
that  wretched  pair  dragged  on  their  heavy  chain  through  a 
world  that  was  poisoned  to  them  both.  I  know  how  cold 
formalities  were  succeeded  by  open  taunts  ;  how  indifference 
gave  place  to  dislike,  dislike  to  hate,  and  hate  to  loathing, 
until  at  last  they  wrenched  the  clanking  bond  asunder,  and 
retiring  a  wide  space  apart,  carried  each  a  galling  fragment, 
of  which  nothing  but  death  could  break  the  rivets,  to  hide  it 
in  new  society  beneath  the  gayest  looks  they  could  assume. 
Your  mother  succeeded — she  forgot  it  soon.  But  it  rusted 
and  cankered  at  your  father's  heart  for  years." 

"  Well,  they  were  separated,"  said  Monks  ;  "and  what  of 
that  ? " 

"  When  they  had  been  separated  for  some  time,"  returned 
Mr.  Brownlow,  "and  your  mother,  wholly  given  up  to  con- 
tinental frivolities,  had  utterly  forgotten  the  young  husband, 
ten  good  years  her  junior,  who,  with  prospects  blighted,  lin- 
gered on  at  home,  he  fell  among  new. friends.  This  circum- 
stance, at  least,  you  know  already." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Monks,  turning  away  his  eyes  and  beating 
his  foot  upon  the  ground,  as  a  man  who  is  determined  to 
deny  every  thing.     "  Not  I." 

"  Your  manner,  no  less  than  your  actions,  assures  me  that 
you  have  never  forgotten  it,  or  ceased  to  think  of  it  with 
bitterness,"  returned  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  I  speak  of  fifteen 
years  ago,  when  you  were  not  more  than  eleven  years  old, 
and  your  father  but  one-and-thirty — for  he  was,  1  repeat,  a 
boy  when  his  father  ordered  him  to  marry.  Must  I  go  back 
to  events  which  cast  a  shade  upon  the  memory  of  your 
parent,  or  will  you  spare  it,  and  disclose  to  me  the 
truth  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  disclose,"  rejoined  Monks.  "  You 
must  talk  on  if  you  will." 

"These  new  friends,  then,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  were  a 
naval  officer,  retired  from  active  service,  whose  wife  had 
died  some  half  a  year  before,  and  left  him  with  two  children 
— there  had  been  more,  but,  of  all  their  family,  happily  but 
two  survived.     They  were  both  daughters  ;  one  a  beautiful 


376  OLIVER  TWIST. 

creature  of  nineteen,  and  the  other  a  mere  child  of  two  or 
three  years  old." 

"  What's  this  to  me  ?"  asked  Monks. 

"  They  resided,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  without  seeming  to 
hear  the  interruption,  "  in  a  part  of  the  country  to  which 
your  father  in  his  wandering  had  repaired,  and  where  he  had 
taken  up  his  abode.  Acquaintance,  intimacy,  friendship, 
fast  followed  on  each  other.  Your  father  was  gifted  as  few 
men  are.  He  had  his  sister's  soul  and  person.  As  the  old 
officer  knew  him  more  and  more,  he  grew  to  love  him.  I 
would  that  it  had  ended  there.  His  daughter  did  the 
same." 

The  old  gentleman  paused — Monks  was  biting  his  lips, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor.  Seeing  this,  he  immedi- 
ately resumed  : 

"  The  end  of  a  year  found  him  contracted,  solemnly  con- 
tracted, to  that  daughter — the  object  of  the  first,  true,  ardent, 
only  passion  of  a  guileless  girl." 

"  Your  tale  is  of  the  longest,"  observed  Monks,  moving 
restlessly  in  his  chair. 

"  It  is  a  true  tale  of  grief  and  trial  and  sorrow,  young 
man,"  returned  Mr.  Brownlow  ;  "  and  such  tales  usually 
are  :  if  it  were  one  of  unmixed  joy  and  happiness,  it  would 
be  very  brief.  At  length  one  of  those  rich  relations,  to 
strengthen  whose  interest  and  importance  your  father  had 
been  sacrificed,  as  others  are  often — it  is  no  uncommon 
case — died,  and,  to  repair  the  misery  he  had  been  instru- 
mental in  occasioning,  left  him  his  panacea  for  all  griefs — 
Money.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should  immediately  re- 
pair to  Rome,  whither  this  man  had  sped  for  health,  and 
where  he  had  died,  leaving  his  affairs  in  great  confusion. 
He  wrent,  was  seized  with  mortal  illness  there  ;  was  followed 
the  moment  the  intelligence  reached  Paris  by  your  mother, 
who  carried  you  with  her  ;  he  died  the  day  after  her  arrival, 
leaving  no  will — no  will — so  that  the  whole  property  fell  to 
her  and  you." 

At  this  part  of  the  recital,  Monks  held  his  breath  and  lis- 
tened with  a  face  of  intense  eagerness,  though  his  eyes  were 
not  directed  toward  the  speaker.  As  Mr.  Brownlow  paused, 
he  changed  his  position  with  the  air  of  one  who  has 
experienced  a  sudden  relief,  and  wiped  his  hot  face  and 
hands. 

"  Before  he  went  abroad,  and  as  he  passed  through  Lorn 


OLIVER  TWIST.  377 

don  on  his  way,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  slowly,  and  fixing  his 
eyes  upon  the  other's  face,  "he  came  to  me." 

"  I  never  heard  of  that,"  interrupted  Monks,  in  a  tone 
intended  to  appear  incredulous,  but  savoring  more  of  dis- 
agreeable  surprise. 

"  He  came  to  me,  and  left  with  me,  among  some  other 
things,  a  picture — a  portrait  painted  by  himself — a  likeness 
of  this  poor  girl — which  he  did  not  wish  to  leave  behind, 
and  could  not  carry  forward  on  his  hasty  journey.  He  was 
worn,  by  anxiety  and  remorse,  almost  to  a  shadow  ;  talked 
in  a  wild,  distracted  way  of  ruin  and  dishonor  worked  by 
himself  ;  confided  to  me  his  intention  to  convert  his  whole 
property,  at  any  loss,  into  money,  and,  having  settled  on  his 
wife  and  you  a  portion  of  his  recent  acquisition,  to  fly  the 
country — I  guessed  too  well  he  would  not  fly  alone — and 
never  see  it  more.  Even  from  me,  his  old  and  early  friend, 
whose  strong  attachment  had  taken  root  in  the  earth  that 
covered  one  most  dear  to  both — even  from  me  he  withheld 
any  more  particular  confession,  promising  to  write  and  tell 
me  all,  and  after  that  to  see  me  once  again  for  the  last  time 
on  earth.  Alas  !  That  was  the  last  time.  I  had  no  letter, 
and  I  never  saw  him  more. 

"  I  went,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  after  a  short  pause;  "I 
went,  when  all  was  over,  to  the  scene  of  his — I  will  use  the 
term  the  world  would  freely  use,  for  worldly  harshness  or 
favor  are  now  alike  to  him — of  his  guilty  love,  resolved  that 
if  my  fears  were  realized,  that  erring  child  should  find  one 
heart  and  home  to  shelter  and  compassionate  her.  The 
family  had  left  that  part'  a  week  before  ;  they  had  called  in 
such  trifling  debts  as  were  outstanding,  discharged  them, 
and  left  the  place  by  night.  Why,  or  whither,  none  can 
tell." 

Monks  drew  his  breath  yet  more  freely,  and  looked  round 
with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  When  your  brother,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  drawing  nearer 
to  the  other's  chair — "  when  your  brother — a  feeble,  ragged, 
neglected  child — was  cast  in  my  way  by  a  stronger  hand 
than  chance,  and  rescued  by  me  from  a  life  of  vice  and  in- 
famy— " 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Monks. 

"  By  me,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  I  told  you  I  should  in- 
terest you  before  long.  I  say  by  me — I  see  that  your  cun- 
ning associate  suppressed  my  name,  although,  for  aught  he 


37*  OLIVER  TWlSt. 

knew,  it  would  be  quite  strange  to  your  ears.  When  he  was 
rescued  by  me,  then,  and  lay  recovering  from  sickness  in 
my  house,  his  strong  resemblance  to  this  picture  I  have 
spoken  of  struck  me  with  astonishment.  Even  when  I  first 
saw  him  in  all  his  dirt  and  misery,  there  was  a  lingering  ex- 
pression in  his  face  that  came  upon  me  like  a  glimpse  of 
some  old  friend  flashing  on  one  in  a  vivid  dream.  I  need 
not  tell  you  he  was  snared  away  before  I  knew  his  his- 
tory— "  _ 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Monks,  hastily. 

"  Because  you  know  it  well." 

"1!" 

"  Denial  to  me  is  vain,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "I  shall 
show  you  that  I  know  more  than  that." 

"  You — you — can't  prove  any  thing  against  me,"  stammered 
Monks.     "  I  defy  you  to  do  it  !  " 

"  We  shall  see,"  returned  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  search- 
ing glance.  "  I  lost  the  boy,  and  no  efforts  of  mine  could 
recover  him.  Your  mother  being  dead,  I  knew  that  you 
alone  could  solve  the  mystery  if  any  body  could  ;  and  as 
when  I  had  last  heard  of  you  you  were  on  your  own  estate 
in  the  West  Indies — whither,  as  you  well  know,  you  retired 
upon  your  mother's  death  to  escape  the  consequences  of 
vicious  courses  here — I  made  the  voyage.  You  had  left  it 
months  before,  and  were  supposed  to  be  in  London  ;  but 
no  one  could  tell  where.  I  returned.  Your  agents  had  no 
clue  to  your  residence.  You  came  and  went,  they  said,  as 
strangely  as  you  had  ever  done — sometimes  for  days  together 
and  sometimes  not  for  months — keeping,  to  all  appearance, 
the  same  low  haunts,  and  mingling  with  the  same  infamous 
herd  who  had  been  your  associates  when  a  fierce,  ungovern- 
able boy.  I  wearied  them  with  new  applications.  I  paced 
the  streets  by  night  and  day,  but,  until  two  hours  ago,  all 
my  efforts  were  fruitless,  and  I  never  saw  you  for  an  in- 
stant." 

"  And  now  you  do  see  me,"  said  Monks,  rising  boldly, 
"  what  then  ?  Fraud  and  robbery  are  high-sounding  words 
— justified,  you  think,  by  a  fancied  resemblance  in  some 
young  imp  to  an  idle  daub  of  a  dead  man's.  Brother  !  you 
don't  even  know  that  a  child  was  born  of  this  maudlin  pair  ; 
you  don't  even  know  that." 

"  I  did  not"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  rising  too ;  "  but 
within  the  last  fortnight  I  have  learned  it  all.     You  have  a 


OLIVER  TWIST.  379 

brother  :  you  know  it  and  him.  There  was  a  will  which 
your  mother  destroyed,  leaving  the  secret  and  the  gain  to 
you  at  her  own  death.  It  contained  a  reference  to  some 
child  likely  to  be  the  result  of  this  sad  connection,  which 
child  was  born,  and  accidentally  encountered  by  you,  when 
your  suspicions  were  first  awakened  by  his  resemblance  to 
his  father.  You  repaired  to  the  place  of  his  birth.  There 
existed  proofs — proofs  long  suppressed — of  his  birth  and 
parentage.  Those  proofs  were  destroyed  by  you,  and  now, 
in  your  own  words  to  your  accomplice  the  Jew,  *  the  only 
proofs  of  the  boy's  identity  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  river y  and 
the  old  hag  that  received  them  from  the  mother  is  rotting  in 
her  coffin.'  Unworthy  son,  coward,  liar — you,  who  hold 
your  councils  with  thieves  and  murderers  in  dark  rooms  at 
night — you,  whose  plots  and  wiles  have  brought  a  violent 
death  upon  the  head  of  one  worth  millions  such  as  you — 
you,  who  from  your  cradle  were  gall  and  bitterness  to  your 
own  father's  heart,  and  in  whom  all  evil  passions,  vice,  and 
profligacy  festered,  till  they  found  a  vent  in  a  hideous  dis- 
ease which  has  made  your  face  an  index  even  to  your  mind 
— you,  Edward  Leeford,  do  you  still  brave  me  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  returned  the  coward,  overwhelmed  by  these 
accumulated  charges. 

"  Every  word  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman,  "  every  word 
that  has  passed  between  you  and  this  detested  villain  is 
known  to  me.  Shadows  on  the  wall  have  caught  your 
whispers,  and  brought  them  to  my  ear  ;  the  sight  of  the  per- 
secuted child  has  turned  vice  itself,  and  given  it  the  courage 
and  almost  the  attributes  of  virtue.  Murder  has  been  done, 
to  which  you  were  morally  if  not  really  a  party." 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  Monks.  "  I — I — know  nothing  of 
that  ;  I  was  going  to  inquire  the  truth  of  the  story  when  you 
overtook  me.  I  didn't  know  the  cause.  I  thought  it  was  a 
common  quarrel." 

11  It  was  the  partial  disclosure  of  your  secrets,"  .replied 
Mr.  Brownlow.     "  Will  you  disclose  the  whole  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will." 

"  Set  your  hand  to  a  statement  of  truth  and  facts,  and  re- 
peat it  before  witnesses  ? " 

"  That  I  promise  too." 

"  Remain  quietly  here  until  such  a  document  is  drawn  up, 
and  proceed  with  me  to  such  a  place  as  I  may  deem  advis- 
able, for  the  purpose  of  attesting  it?" 


35o  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"If  you  insist  upon  that,  I'll  do  that  also,"  replied 
Monks. 

"  You  must  do  more  than  that,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow. 
"  Make  restitution  to  an  innocent  and  unoffending  child  ; 
for  such  he  is,  although  the  offspring  of  a  guilty  and  most 
miserable  love.  You  have  not  forgotten  the  provisions  of 
the  will.  Carry  them  into  execution  so  far  as  your  brother 
is  concerned,  and  then  go  where  you  please.  In  this  world 
you  need  meet  no  more." 

While  Monks  was  pacing  up  and  down,  meditating  with 
dark  and  evil  looks  on  this  proposal  and  the  possibilities  of 
evading  it — torn  by  his  fears  on  the  one  hand  and  his  hatred 
on  the  other — the  door  was  hurriedly  unlocked,  and  a  gen- 
tleman (Mr.  Losberne)  entered  the  room  in  violent  agitation. 

"  The  man  will  be  taken,"  he  cried.  "  He  will  be  taken 
to  night." 

"The  murderer?"  asked  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  other.  "  His  dog  has  been  seen 
lurking  about  some  old  haunt,  and  there  seems  little  doubt 
that  his  master  either  is,  or  will  be,  there,  under  cover  of  the 
darkness.  Spies  are  hovering  about  in  every  direction.  I 
have  spoken  to  the  men  who  are  charged  with  his  capture, 
and  they  tell  me  he  can  not  escape.  A  reward  of  a  hundred 
pounds  is  proclaimed  by  Government  to-night." 

"I  will  give  fifty  more,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  "and  pro- 
claim it  with  my  own  lips  upon  the  spot,  if  I  can  reach  it. 
Where  is  Mr.  Maylie  ?  " 

"  Harry  ?  As  soon  as  he  had  seen  your  friend  here  safe 
in  a  coach  with  you,  he  hurried  off  to  where  he  heard  this," 
replied  the  doctor,  "  and,  mounting  his  horse,  sallied  forth 
to  join  the  first  party  at  some  place  in  the  outskirts  agreed 
upon  between  them." 

"  Fagin  ? "  said  Mr.  Brownlow  ;  "  what  of  him  ? " 

"When  I  last  heard,  he  had  not  been  taken,  but  he  will 
be,  or  is,  by  this  time.     They're  sure  of  him." 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  ? "  asked  Mr.  Brownlow, 
in  a  low  voice,  of  Monks. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.     "  You — you — will  be  secret  with  me  ? " 

"  I  will.  Remain  here  till  I  return.  It  is  your  only  hope 
of  safety. 

They  left  the  room,  and  the  door  was  again  locked. 

"  What  have  you  done  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  in  a  whisper. 

"  All  that  I  could  hope  to  do,  and  even  more.     Coupling 


OLIVER  TWIST.  381 

the  pflof  girl's  intelligence  with  my  previous  Knowledge,  and 
the  result  of  our  good  friend's  inquiries  on  the  spot,  I  left 
him  no  loop-hole  of  escape,  and  laid  bare  the  whole  villainy 
which  by  these  lights  became  plain  as  day.  Write  and  ap- 
point the  evening  after  to-morrow,  at  seven,  for  the  meeting. 
We  shall  be  down  there  a  few  hours  before,  but  shall  require 
rest,  especially  the  young  lady,  who  may  have  greater  need 
of  firmness  than  either  you  or  I  can  quite  foresee  just  now. 
But  my  blood  boils  to  avenge  this  poor  murdered  creature. 
Which  way  have  they  taken  ?" 

"  Drive  straight  to  the  office  and  you  will  be  in  time,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Losberne.     "  I  will  remain  here." 

The  two  gentlemen  hastily  separated,  each  in  a  fever  of 
excitement  wholly  uncontrollable 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE    PURSUIT    AND    ESCAPE. 

Near  to  that  part  of  the  Thames  on  which  the  church  at 
Rotherhithe  abuts,  where  the  buildings  on  the  banks  are 
dirtiest  and  the  vessels  on  the  river  blackest  with  the  dust  of 
colliers  and  the  smoke  of  close-built -low-roofed  houses, 
there  exists  the  filthiest,  the  strangest,  the  most  extraordi- 
nary of  the  many  localities  that  are  hidden  in  London, 
wholly  unknown,  even  by  name,  to  the  great  mass  of  its  in- 
habitants. 

To  reach  this  place  the  visitor  has  to  penetrate  through  a 
maze  of  close,  narrow,  and  muddy  streets,  thronged  by  the 
roughest  and  poorest  of  water-side  people,  and  devoted 
to  the  traffic  they  may  be  supposed  to  occasion.  The  cheap- 
est and  least  delicate  provisions  are  heaped  in  the  shops  ; 
the  coarsest  and  commonest  articles  of  wearing  apparel  dan- 
gle at  the  salesman's  door,  and  stream  from  the  house  para- 
pet and  windows.  Jostling  with  unemployed  laborers  of  the 
lowest  class,  ballast-heavers,  coal-whippers,  brazen  women, 
ragged  children,  and  the  raff  and  refuse  of  the  river,  he 
makes  his  way  with  difficulty  along,  assailed  by  offensive 
sights  and  smells  from  the  narrow  alleys  which  branch  off  on 
the  right  and  left,  and  deafened  by  the  clash  of  ponderous 


382  OLIVER  TWIST. 

wagons  that  bear  great  piles  of  merchandise  from  the  stacks 
of  warehouses  that  rise  from  every  corner.  Arriving,  at 
length,  in  streets  remoter  and  less  frequented  than  those 
through  which  he  has  passed,  he  walks  beneath  tottering 
house-fronts  projecting  over  the  pavement,  dismantled  walls 
that  seem  to  totter  as  he  passes,  chimneys  half-crushed,  half 
hesitating  to  fall,  windows  guarded  by  rusty  iron  bars  that 
time  and  dirt  have  almost  eaten  away,  and  every  imaginable 
sign  of  desolation  and  neglect. 

In  such  a  neighborhood,  beyond  Dockhead,  in  the  borough 
of  Southwark,  stands  Jacob's  Island,  surrounded  by  a  muddy 
ditch,  six  or  eight  feet  deep  and  fifteen  or  twenty  wide  when 
the  tide  is  in,  once  called  Mill  Pond,  but  known  in  the  days 
of  this  story  as  Folly  Ditch.  It  is  a  creek  or  inlet  from  the 
Thames,  and  can  always  be  filled  at  high  water  by  opening 
the  sluices  at  the  Lead  Mills,  from  which  it  took  its  old 
name.  At  such  times,  a  stranger,  looking  from  one  of  the 
wooden  bridges  thrown  across  it  at  Mill  Lane,  will  see  the 
inhabitants  of  the  houses  on  either  side  lowering  from  their 
backdoors  and  windows,  buckets,  pails,  domestic  utensils" of 
all  kinds,  in  which  to  haul  the  water  up  ;  and  when  his  eye 
is  turned  from  these  operations  to  the  houses  themselves,  his 
utmost  astonishment  will  be  excited  by  the  scene  before  him. 
Crazy  wooden  galleries  common  to  the  backs  of  half  a  dozen 
houses,  with  holes  from  which  to  look  upon  the  slime  be- 
neath ;  windows,  broken  and  patched,  with  poles  thrust  out, 
on  which  to  dry  the  linen  that  is  never  there ;  rooms  so 
small,  so  filthy,  so  confined,  that  the  air  would  seem  too 
tainted  even  for  the  dirt  and  squalor  which  they  shelter  ; 
wooden  chambers  thrusting  themselves  out  above  the  mud, 
and  threatening  to  fall  into  it — as  some  have  done  ;  dirt-be- 
smeared walls  and  decaying  foundations  ;  every  repulsive 
lineament  of  poverty,  every  loathsome  indication  of  filth, 
rot,  and  garbage ;  all  these  ornament  the  banks  of  Folly 
Ditch. 

In  Jacob's  Island  the  warehouses  are  roofless  and  empty; 
the  walls  are  crumbling  down  ;  the  windows  are  windows  no 
more  ;  the  doors  are  falling  into  the  streets  ;  the  chimneys 
are  blackened,  but  they  yield  no  smoke.  Thirty  or  forty 
years  ago,  before  losses  and  chancery  suits  came  upon  it,  it 
was  a  thriving  place  ;  but  now  it  is  a  desolate  island  indeed. 
The  houses  have  no  owners  ;  they  are  broken  open  and  en- 
tered upon  by  those  who  have  the  courage  ;  and  there  they 


OLIVER  TWIST.  383 

live  and  there  they  die.  They  must  have  powerful  motives 
for  a  secret  residence,  or  be  reduced  to  a  destitute  condition 
indeed,  who  seek  a  refuge  in  Jacob's  Island. 

In  an  upper  room  of  one  of  these  houses — a  detached 
house  of  fair  size,  ruinous-in  other  respects,  but  strongly  de- 
fended at  door  and  window,  of  which  house  the  back  com- 
manded the  ditch  in  the  manner  already  described — there  are 
assembled  three  men,  who,  regarding  each  other  every  now 
and  then  with  looks  expressive  of  perplexity  and  expecta- 
tion, sat  for  some  time  in  profound  and  gloomy  silence. 
One  of  these  was  Toby  Crackit,  another  Mr.  Chitling,  and 
the  third  a  robber  of  fifty  years,  whose  nose  had  been  almost 
beaten  in,  in  some  old  scuffle,  and  whose  face  bore  a  fright- 
ful scar  which  might  probably  be  traced  to  the  same  occa- 
sion. This  man  was  a  returned  transport,  and  his  name  was 
Kags. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Toby,  turning  to  Mr.  Chitling,  "  that  you 
had  picked  out  some  other  crib  when  the  two  old  ones  got 
too  warm,  and  had  not  come  here,  my  fine  feller." 

"  Why  didn't  you,  blunderhead  ? "  said  Kags. 

"  Well,  I  thought  you'd  have  been  a  little  more  glad  to  see 
me  than  this,"  replied  Mr.  Chitling,  with  a  melancholy  air. 

"  Why  look'e,  young  gentleman,"  said  Toby,  "  when  a  man 
keeps  himself  so  very  ex-clusive  as  I  have  done,  and  by 
that  means  has  a  snug  house  over  his  head,  with  nobody 
a-prying  and  smelling  about  it,  it's  rather  a  startling  thing  to 
have  the  honor  of  a  wisit  from  a  young  gentleman  (however 
respectable  and  pleasant  a  person  he  may  be  to  play  cards 
with  at  conweniency)  circumstanced  as  you  are." 

"Especially  when  the  exclusive  young  man  has  got  a 
friend  stopping  with  him  that  has  arrived  sooner  than  was 
expected  from  foreign  parts,  and  is  too  modest  to  want  to 
be  presented  to  the  Judges  on  his  return,"  added  Mr.  Kags. 

There  was  a  short  silence,  after  which  Toby  Crackit,  seem- 
ing to  abandon  as  hopeless  any  further  effort  to  maintain  his 
usual  devil-may-care  swagger,  turned  to  Chitling  and  said, 

"  When  was  Fagin  took,  then  ?  " 

"  Just  at  dinner-time — two  o'clock  this  afternoon.  Char- 
ley and  I  made  our  lucky  up  the  wash'us  chimney,  and 
Bolter  got  into  the  empty  water-butt,  head  downward  ;  but 
his  legs  were  so  precious  long  that  they  stuck  out  at  the  top, 
and  so  they  took  him  too." 

"And  Bet  ? " 


384  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Poor  Bet !  She  went  to  see  the  Body,  to  speak  to  who 
it  was,"  replied  Chitling,  his  countenance  falling  more  and 
more,  "  and  went  off  mad,  screaming  and  raving,  and  beat- 
ing her  head  against  the  boards  ;  so  they  put  a  strait-weskut 
on  her  and  took  her  to  the  hospital — and  there  she  is." 

"  Wot's  come  of  young  Bates?"  demanded  Kags. 

"  He  hung  about,  not  to  come  over  here  afore  dark  ;  but 
he'll  be  here  soon,"  replied  Chitling.  "  There's  nowhere 
else  to  go  to  now,  for  the  people  at  The  Cripples  are  all  in 
custody,  and  the  bar  of  the  ken — I  went  up  there  and  see  it 
with  my  own  eyes — is  filled  with  traps." 

"This  is  a  smash!"  observed  Toby,  biting  his  lips. 
"  There's  more  than  one  will  go  with  this." 

"The  Sessions  are  on,"  said  Kags.  "If  they  get  the  in- 
quest over,  and  Bolter  turns  king's  evidence — as  of  course 
he  will,  from  what  he's  said  already — they  can  prove  Fagin 
an  accessory  before  the  fact,  and  get  the  trial  on  on  Friday, 
and  he'll  swing  in  six  days  from  this,  by  G — !  " 

"You  should  have  heard  the  people  groan,"  said  Chitling  ; 
"the  officers  fought  like  devils,  or  they'd  have  torn  him 
away.  He  was  down  once,  but  they  made  a  ring  round  him, 
and  fought  their  way  along.  You  should  have  seen  how  he 
looked  about  him,  all  muddy  and  bleeding,  and  clung  to  them 
as  if  they  were  his  dearest  friends.  I  can  see  'em  now,  not 
able  to  stand  upright  with  the  pressing  of  the  mob,  and 
dragging  him  along  among  'em  ;  I  can  see  the  people  jump- 
ing up,  one  behind  another,  and  snarling  with  their  teeth, 
and  making  at  him  like  wild  beasts  ;  I  can  see  the  blood 
upon  his  hair  and  beard,  and  hear  the  cries  with  which  the 
women  worked  themselves  into  the  center  of  the  crowd  at 
the  street  corner,  and  swore  they'd  tear  his  heart  out !  " 

The  horror-stricken  witness  of  this  scene  pressed  his 
hands  upon  his  ears,  and  with  his  eyes  closed  got  up  and 
paced  violently  to  and  fro,  like  one  distracted. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged,  and  the  two  men  sat  by  in 
silence  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor,  a  pattering  noise 
was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  Sikes's  dog  bounded  into  the 
room.  They  ran  to  the  window,  down  stairs,  and  into  the 
street.  The  dog  had  jumped  in  at  an  open  window  ;  he 
made  no  attempt  to  follow  them,  nor  was  his  master  to  be 
seen. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  ? "  said  Toby,  when  they  had 
returned.     "  He  can't  be  coming  here.     I — I — hope  not." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  385 

"If  he  was  coming  here,  he'd  have  come  with  the  dog," 
said  Kags,  stooping  down  to  examine  the  animal  who  lay- 
panting  on  the  floor.  "  Here  !  Give  us  some  water  for 
him  ;  he  has  run  himself  faint." 

"  He's  drunk  it  all  up,  every  drop,"  said  Chitling,  after 
watching  the  dog  for  some  time  in  silence.  "  Covered  with 
mud — lame — half  blind — he  must  have  come  a  long  way." 

"  Where  can  he  have  come  from  !  "  exclaimed  Toby. 
"  He's  been  to  the  other  kens  of  course,  and  finding  them 
filled  with  strangers,  come  on  here,  where  he's  been  many  a 
time  and  often.  But  where  can  he  have  come  from  first, 
and  how  comes  he  here  alone  without  the  other  !  " 

"  He  !  " — (none  of  them  called  the  murderer  by  his  old 
name) — "  he  can't  have  made  away  with  himself.  What  do 
you  think  ?  "  said  Chitling. 

Toby  shook  his  head. 

"  If  he  had,"  said  Kags,  "  the  dog  'ud  want  to  lead  us 
away  to  where  he  did  it.  No.  I  think  he's  got  out  of  the 
country  and  left  the  dog  behind.  He  must  have  given  him 
the  slip  some  how,  or  he  wouldn't  be  so  easy." 

This  solution,  appearing  the  most  probable  one,  was 
adopted  as  the  right  ;  and  the  dog,  creeping  under  a  chair, 
coiled  himself  up  to  sleep,  without  more  notice  from  any 
body. 

It  being  now  dark,  the  shutter  was  closed,  and  a  candle 
lighted  and  placed  upon  the  table.  The  terrible  events  of 
the  last  two  days  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  all  three, 
increased  by  the  danger  and  uncertainty  of  their  own  posi- 
tion. They  drew  their  chairs  closer  together,  starting  at 
every  sound.  They  spoke  little,  and  that  in  whispers,  and 
were  as  silent  and  awe- stricken  as  if  the  remains  of  the  mur- 
dered woman  lay  in  the  next  room. 

They  had  sat  thus  some  time,  when  suddenly  was  heard  a 
hurried  knocking  at  the  door  below. 

"  Young  Bates,"  said  Kags,  looking  angrily  round,  to  check 
the  fear  he  felt  himself. 

The  knocking  came  again.  No,  it  wasn't  he.  He  never 
knocked  like  that. 

Crackit  went  to  the  window,  and,  shaking  all  over,  drew 
in  his  head.  There  was  no  need  to  tell  them  who  it  was  ; 
his  pale  face  was  enough.  The  dog,  too,  was  on  the  alert  in 
an  instant,  and  ran  whining  to  the  door. 

"We  must  let  him  in,"  he  said,  taking  up  the  candle. 


386  OLIVER  TWIST. 

"  Isn't  there  any  help  for  it  ?  "  asked  the  other  man  in  a 
hoarse  voice. 

"None.     He  must  come  in." 

"  Don't  leave  us  in  the  dark,"  said  Kags,  taking  down  a 
candle  from  the  chimney-piece  and  lighting  it,  with  such  a 
trembling  hand,  that  the  knocking  was  twice  repeated  before 
he  had  finished. 

Crackit  went  down  to  the  door,  and  returned  followed  by 
a  man  with  the  lower  part  of  his  face  buried  in  a  handker- 
chief and  another  tied  over  his  head  under  his  hat.  He 
drew  them  slowly  off.  Blanched  face,  sunken  eyes,  hollow 
cheeks,  beard  of  three  days'  growth,  wasted  flesh,  short 
thick  breath  ;  it  was  the  very  ghost  of  Sikes. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  a  chair  which  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  but,  shuddering  as  he  was  about  to  drop  into 
it,  and  seeming  to  glance  over  his  shoulder,  dragged  it 
back  close  to  the  wall — as  close  as  it  would  go — ground  it 
against  it — and  sat  down. 

Not  a  word  had  been  exchanged.  He  looked  from  one 
to  another  in  silence.  If  an  eye  were  furtively  raised  and 
met  his,  it  was  instantly  averted.  When  his  hollow  voice 
broke  silence,  they  all  three  started.  They  seemed  never  to 
have  heard  its  tones  before. 

"  How  came  that  dog  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Alone.     Three  hours  ago." 

"  To-night's  paper  says  that  Fagin's  taken.  Is  it  true,  or 
a  lie?" 

"True." 

They  were  silent  again. 

"  D —  you  all  !  "  said  Sikes,  passing  his  hand  across  his 
forehead.     "  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

There  was  an  uneasy  movement  among  them,  but  nobody 
spoke. 

"  You  that  keep  this  house,"  said  Sikes,  turning  his  face 
to  Crackit,  "do  you  mean  to  sell  me,  or  to  let  me  lie  here 
till  this  hunt  is  over  ?  " 

"  You  may  stop  here  if  you  think  it  is  safe,"  returned  the 
person  addressed,  after  some  hesitation. 

Sikes  carried  his  eyes  slowly  up  the  wall  behind  him, 
rather  trying  to  turn  his  head  than  actually  doing  it,  and 
said,  "  Is — it — the  body — is  it  buried  ?  " 

They  shook  their  heads. 

"  Why  isn't  it  ? "  he  retorted,  with  the  same  glance  behind 


OLIVER  TWIST.  387 

him.  "Wot  do  they  keep  such  ugly  things  above  the 
ground  for  ? — Who's  that  knocking  ?  " 

Crackit  intimated,  by  a  motion  of  his  hand  as  he  left  the 
room,  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear  ;  and  directly  came 
back  with  Charley  Bates  behind  him.  Sikes  sat  opposite  the 
door,  so  that  the  moment  the  boy  entered  the  room  he 
encountered  his  figure. 

"  Toby,"  said  the  boy,  falling  back,  as  Sikes  turned  his 
eyes  toward  him,  "  why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  down 
stairs  ?  " 

There  had  been  something  so  tremendous  in  the  shrinking 
off  of  the  three,  that  the  wretched  man  was  willing  to  pro- 
pitiate even  this  lad.  Accordingly  he  nodded,  and  made  as 
though  he  would  shake  hands  with  him. 

"  Let  me  go  into  some  other  room,"  said  the  boy,  retreat- 
ing still  further. 

"  Charley  !  "  said  Sikes,  stepping  forward.  "  Don't  you — 
don't  you  know  me  ? " 

"  Don't  come  nearer  me,"  answered  the  boy,  still  retreat- 
ing, and  looking,  with  horror  in  his  eyes,  upon  the  mur- 
derer's face.     "  You  monster  !  " 

The  man  stopped  half  way,  and  they  looked  at  each 
other  ;  but  Sikes's  eyes  sunk  gradually  to  the  ground. 

"  Witness  you  three,"  cried  the  boy,  shaking  his  clenched 
first,  and  becoming  more  and  more  excited  as  he  spoke. 
"Witness  you  three — I'm  not  afraid  of  him — if  they  come 
here  after  him,  I'll  give  him  up  ;  I  will.  I  tell  you  out  at 
once.  He  may  kill  me  for  it  if  he  likes,  or  if  he  dares,  but 
if  I'm  here  I'll  give  him  up.  I'd  give  him  up  if  he  was  to 
be  boiled  alive.  Murder  !  Help  !  If  there's  the  pluck  of 
a  man  among  you  three,  you'll  help  me.  Murder  !  Help  ! 
Down  with  him  !  " 

Pouring  out  these  cries,  and  accompanying  them  with 
violent  gesticulations,  the  boy  actually  threw  himself,  single- 
handed,  upon  the  strong  man,  and  in  the  intensity  of  his 
energy  and  the  suddenness  of  his  surprise,  brought  him 
heavily  to  the  ground. 

The  three  spectators  seemed  quite  stupefied.  They 
offered  no  interference,  and  the  boy  and  man  rolled  on  the 
ground  together  ;  the  former,  heedless  of  the  blows  that 
showered  upon  him,  wrenching  his  hands  tighter  and  tighter 
in  the  garments  about  the  murderer's  breast,  and  never  ceas- 
ing to  call  for  help  with  all  his  might. 


388  OLIVER  TWIST. 

The  contest,  however,  was  too  unequal  to  last  long.  Sikes 
had  him  down,  and  his  knee  was  on  his  throat,  when  Crackit 
pulled  him  back  with  a  look  of  alarm,  and  pointed  to  the 
window.  There  were  lights  gleaming  below,  voices  in  loud 
and  earnest  conversation,  the  tramp  of  hurried  footsteps — 
endless  they  seemed  in  number — crossing  the  nearest  wooden 
bridge.  One  man  on  horseback  seemed  to  be  among  the 
crowd  ;  for  there  was  the  noise  of  hoofs  rattling  on  the  uneven 
pavement.  The  gleam  of  light  increased  ;  the  footsteps  came 
more  thickly  and  noisily  on.  Then  came  a  loud  knocking 
at  the  door,  and  then  a  hoarse  murmur  from  such  a  multi- 
tude of  angry  voices  as  would  have  made  the  boldest  quail. 

"  Help  !  "  shrieked  the  boy,  in  a  voice  that  rent  the  air. 
"  He's  here  !     Break  down  the  door  !  " 

"  In  the  king's  name,"  cried  the  voices  without  ;  and  then 
the  hoarse  cry  arose  again,  but  louder. 

"  Break  down  the  door  !  "  screamed  the  boy.  "  I  tell  you 
they'll  never  open  it  !  Run  straight  to  the  room  where  the 
light  is.     Break  down  the  door  !  " 

Strokes  thick  and  heavy  rattled  upon  the  door  and  lower 
window-shutters  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  and  a  loud  huzzah 
burst  from  the  crowd,  giving  the  listener,  for  the  first  time, 
some  adequate  idea  of  its  immense  extent. 

"  Open  the  door  of  some  place  where  I  can  lock  this 
screeching  hell-babe  !  "  cried  Sikes,  fiercely,  running  to  and 
fro,  and  dragging  the  boy  now  as  easily  as  if  he  were  an 
empty  sack.  "That  door.  Quick!"  He  flung  him  in, 
bolted  it,  and  turned  the  key.  "  Is  the  down  stairs  door 
fast  ? " 

"Double-locked  and  chained,"  replied  Crackit,  who,  with 
the  other  two  men,  still  remained  quite  helpless  and  be- 
wildered. 

"  The  panels — are  they  strong  ?  " 

v  Lined  with  sheet-iron." 

"And  the  windows  too  ?" 

"Yes,  and  the  windows." 

"  D —  you  !  "  cried  the  desperate  ruffian,  throwing  up  the 
sash  and  menacing  the  crowd.  "  Do  your  worst !  I'll  cheat 
you  yet  !  " 

Of  all  the  terrific  yells  that  ever  fell  on  mortal  ears,  none 
could  exceed  the  cry  of  the  infuriated  throng.  Some 
shouted  to  those  who  were  nearest  to  set  the  house  on  fire  ; 
others  roared  to  the  officers  to  shoot  him  dead.     Among 


OLIVER  TWIST.  389 

them  all,  none  showed  such  fury  as  the  man  on  horseback, 
who,  throwing  himself  out  of  the  saddle,  and  bursting 
through  the  crowd  as  if  he  were  parting  water,  cried, 
beneath  the  window,  in  a  voice  that  rose  above  all  others, 
"  Twenty  guineas  to  the  man  who  brings  a  ladder  !  " 

The  nearest  voices  took  up  the  cry,  and  hundreds  echoed 
it.  Some  called  for  ladders,  some  for  sledge-hammers  ; 
some  ran  with  torches  to  and  fro  as  if  to  seek  them,  and 
still  came  back  and  roared  again  ;  some  spent  their  breath 
in  impotent  curses  and  execrations  ;  some  pressed  forward 
with  the  ecstasy  of  madmen,  and  thus  impeded  the  progress 
of  those  below  ;  some  among  the  boldest  attempted  to  climb 
up  by  the  water- spout  and  crevices  in  the  wall  ;  and  all 
waved  to  and  fro,  in  the  darkness  beneath,  like  a  field  of 
corn  moved  by  an  angry  wind,  and  joined  from  time  to  time 
in  one  loud  furious  roar. 

"  The  tide,"  cried  the  murderer,  as  he  staggered  back  into 
the  room,  and  shut  the  faces  out,  "  the  tide  was  in  as  I  came 
up.  Give  me  a  rope,  a  long  rope.  They're  all  in  front.  I 
may  drop  into  the  Folly  Ditch,  and  clear  off  that  way. 
Give  me  a  rope,  or  I  shall  do  three  more  murders  and  kill 
myself." 

The  panic-stricken  men  pointed  to  where  such  articles 
were  kept ;  the  murderer,  hastily  selecting  the  longest  and 
strongest  cord,  hurried  up  to  the  house-top. 

All  the  windows  in  the  rear  of  the  house  had  been  long 
ago  bricked  up,  except  one  small  trap  in  the  room  where  the 
boy  was  locked,  and  that  was  too  small  even  for  the  passage 
of  his  body.  But,  from  this  aperture,  he  had  never  ceased 
to  call  on  those  without  to  guard  the  back  ;  and  thus,  when 
the  murderer  emerged  at  last  on  the  house-top  by  the  door 
in  the  roof,  a  loud  shout  proclaimed  the  fact  to  those  in 
front,  who  immediately  began  to  pour  round,  pressing  upon 
each  other  in  one  unbroken  stream. 

He  planted  a  board  which  he  had  carried  up  with  him  for 
the  purpose,  so  firmly  against  the  door  that  it  must  be  mat- 
ter of  great  difficulty  to  open  it  from  the  inside  ;  and  creep- 
ing over  the  tiles,  looked  over  the  low  parapet. 

The  water  was  out,  and  the  ditch  a  bed  of  mud. 

The  crowd  had  been  hushed  during  these  few  moments, 
watching  his  motions  and  doubtful  of  his  purpose,  but  the 
instant  they  perceived  it  and  knew  it  was  defeated  they 
/"aised  a  cry  of  triumphant  execration  to  which  all  their  pre- 


39©  OLIVER  TWIST. 

vious  shouting  had  been  whispers.  Again  and  again  it  rose. 
Those  who  were  at  too  great  a  distance  to  know  its  meaning 
took  up  the  sound  ;  it  echoed  and  re-echoed  ;  it  seemed  as 
though  the  whole  city  bad  poured  its  population  out  to  curse 
him. 

On  pressed  the  people  from  the  front — on,  on,  on,  in  a 
strong  struggling  current  of  angry  faces,  with  here  and 
there  a  glaring  torch  to  light  them  up,  and  show  them  out 
in  all  their  wrath  and  passion.  The  houses  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  ditch  had  been  entered  by  the  mob  ;  sashes  were 
thrown  up,  or  torn  bodily  out ;  there  were  tiers  and  tiers  of 
faces  in  every  window,  and  cluster  upon  cluster  of  people 
clinging  to  every  house-top.  Each  little  bridge  (and  there 
were  three  in  sight)  bent  beneath  the  weight  of  the  crowd 
upon  it.  Still  the  current  poured  on  to  find  some  nook  or 
hole  from  which  to  vent  their  shouts,  and  only  for  an  instant 
see  the  wretch. 

"They  have  him  now  ! "  cried  a  man  on  the  nearest 
bridge.     "  Hurrah  !  " 

The  crowd  grew  light  with  uncovered  heads  ;  and  again 
the  shout  uprose. 

"  I  will  give  fifty  pounds,"  cried  an  old  gentleman  from 
the  same  quarter,  "to  the  man  who  takes  him  alive.  I  will 
remain  here  till  he  comes  to  ask  me  for  it." 

There  was  another  roar.  At  this  moment  the  word  was 
passed  among  the  crowd  that  the  door  was  forced  at  last,  and 
that  he  who  had  first  called  for  the  ladder  had  mounted  into 
the  room.  The  stream  abruptly  turned  as  this  intelligence 
ran  from  mouth  to  mouth  ;  and  the  people  at  the  windows, 
seeing  those  upon  the  bridges  pouring  back,  quitted  their 
stations,  and,  running  into  the  street,  joined  the  concourse 
that  now  thronged  pell-mell  to  the  spot  they  had  left,  each 
man  crushing  and  striving  with  his  neighbor,  and  all  panting 
with  impatience  to  get  near  the  door,  and  look  upon  the 
criminal  as  the  officers  brought  him  out.  The  cries  and 
shrieks  of  those  who  were  pressed  almost  to  suffocation,  or 
trampled  down  and  trodden  under  foot  in  the  confusion, 
were  dreadful  ;  the  narrow  ways  were  completely  blocked 
up  ;  and  at  this  time,  between  the  rush  of  some  to  regain 
the  space  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the  unavailing  struggles 
of  others  to  extricate  themselves  from  the  mass,  the  imme- 
diate attention  was  distracted  from  the  murderer,  although 
the  universal  eagerness  for  his  capture  was,  if  possible,  in- 
creased. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  391 

The  man  had  shrunk  down,  thoroughly  quelled  by  the 
ferocity  of  the  crowd  and  the  impossibility  of  escape  ;  but 
seeing  this  sudden  change  with  no  less  rapidity  than  it  had 
occurred,  he  sprang  upon  his  feet  determined  to  make  one 
last  effort  for  his  life  by  dropping  into  the  ditch,  and,  at  the 
risk  of  being  stifled,  endeavoring  to  creep  away  in  the  dark- 
ness and  confusion. 

Roused  into  new  strength  and  energy,  and  stimulated  by 
the  noise  within  the  house,  which  announced  that  an  en- 
trance had  really  been  effected,  he  set  his  foot  against  the 
stack  of  chimneys,  fastened  one  end  of  the  rope  tightly  and 
firmly  round  it,  and  with  the  other  made  a  strong  running 
noose,  by  the  aid  of  his  hands  and  teeth,  almost  in  a  second. 
He  could  let  himself  down  by  the  cord  to  within  a  less  dis- 
tance of  the  ground  than  his  own  height,  and  had  his  knife 
ready  in  his  hand  to  cut  it  then  and  drop. 

At  the  very  instant  when  he  brought  the  loop  over  his  head 
previous  to  slipping  it  beneath  his  armpits,  and  when  the  old 
gentleman  before  mentioned  (who  had  clung  so  tight  to  the 
railing  of  the  bridge  as  to  resist  the  force  of  the  crowd,  and 
retain  his  position)  earnestly  warned  those  about  him  that 
the  man  was  about  to  lower  himself  down — at  that  very  in- 
stant the  murderer,  looking  behind  him  on  the  roof,  threw 
his  arms  above  his  head  and  uttered  a  yell  of, terror. 

"  The  eyes  again  !  "  he  cried,  in  an  unearthly  screech. 

Staggering  as  if  struck  by  lightning,  he  lost  his  balance  and 
tumbled  over  the  parapet.  The  noose  was  on  his  neck.  It 
un  up  with  his  weight  tight  as  a  bow-string,  and  swift  as  the 
arrow  it  speeds.  He  fell  for  five-and- thirty  feet.  There 
was  a  sudden  jerk,  a  terrific  convulsion  of  the  limbs  ;  and 
there  he  hung,  with  the  open  knife  clinched  in  his  stiffening 
hand. 

The  old  chimney  quivered  with  the  shock,  but  stood  it 
bravely.  The  murderer  swung  lifeless  against  the  wall  ; 
and  the  boy,  thrusting  aside  the  dangling  body  which  ob- 
scured his  view,  called  to  the  people  to  come  and  take  him 
out,  for  God's  sake.  1 

A  dog  which  had  lain  concealed  till  now  ran  backward 
and  forward  on  the  parapet  with  a  dismal  howl,  and  collect- 
ing himself  for  a  spring,  jumped  for  the  dead  man's  shoul- 
ders. Missing  his  aim,  he  fell  into  the  ditch,  turning  com- 
pletely over  as  he  went,  and  striking  his  head  against  a  stone, 
dashed  out  his  brains. 


392  OLIVER  TWIST. 

CHAPTER   LI. 

AFFORDING  AN  EXPLANATION  OF  MORE  MYSTERIES  THAN 
ONE,  AND  COMPREHENDING  A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 
^VITH    NO    WORD    OF    SETTLEMENT    OR    PIN-MONEY. 

The  events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter  were  yet  but  two 
days  old  when  Oliver  found  himself,  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  in  a  traveling-carriage  rolling  fast  toward  his  na- 
tive town.  Mrs.  Maylie,  and  Rose,  and  Mrs.  Bedwin,  and 
the  good  doctor,  were  with  him  ;  and  Mr.  Brownlow  fol- 
lowed in  a  post-chaise,  accompanied  by  one  other  person, 
whose  name  had  not  been  mentioned. 

They  had  not  talked  much  upon  the  way  ;  for  Oliver  was 
in  a  flutter  of  agitation  and  uncertainty  which  deprived  him 
of  the  power  of  collecting  his  thoughts,  and  almost  of  speech, 
and  appeared  to  have  scarcely  less  effect  on  his  companions, 
who  shared  it  in  at  least  an  equal  degree.  He  and  the  two 
ladies  had  been  very  carefully  made  acquainted  by  Mr. 
Brownlow  with  the  nature  of  the  admissions  which  had  been 
forced  from  Monks  ;  and  although  they  knew  that  the  object 
of  their  present  journey  was  to  complete  the  work  which 
had  been  so  well  begun,  still  the  whole  matter  was  enveloped 
in  enough  of  doubt  and  mystery  to  leave  them  in  endurance 
of  the  most  intense  suspense. 

The  same  kind  friend  had,  with  Mr.  Losberne's  assistance, 
cautiously  stopped  all  channels  of  communication  through 
which  they  could  receive  intelligence  of  the  dreadful  occur- 
rences that  had  so  recently  taken  place.  "  It  was  quite 
true,"  he  said,  "  that  they  must  know  them  before  long,  but 
it  might  be  at  a  better  time  than  the  present,  and  it  could 
not  be  at  a  worse."  So  they  traveled  on  in  silence,  each 
busied  with  reflections  on  the  object  which  had  brought  them 
together,  and  no  one  disposed  to  give  utterance  to  the 
thoughts  which  crowded  upon  all. 

But  if  Oliver,  under  these  influences,  had  remained  silent 
while  they  journeyed  toward  his  birthplace  by  a  road  he  had 
never  seen,  how  the  whole  current  of  his  recollections  ran 
back  to  old  times,  and  what  a  crowd  of  emotions  were 
wakened  up  in  his  breast,  when  they  turned  into  that  which 
he  had  traversed,  on  foot — a  poor  houseless,  wandering  boy, 
without  a  friend  to  help  him,  or  a  roof  to  shelter  his  head. 

"  See  there,  there  !"  cried  Oliver,  eagerly  clasping  the  hand 


OLIVER  TWIST.  393 

of  Rose,  and  pointing  out  at  the  carriage  window  ;  "  that's 
the  stile  I  came  over  ;  there  are  the  hedges  I  crept  be- 
hind, for  fear  any  one  should  overtake  me  and  force  me 
back  !  Yonder  is  the  path  across  the  fields,  leading  to  the 
old  house  where  I  was  a  little  child  !  Oh  Dick,  Dick,  my 
dear  old  friend,  if  I  could  only  see  you  now  !  " 

"You  will  see  him  soon,"  replied  Rose,  gently  taking  his 
folded  hands  between  her  own.  "  You  shall  tell  him  how 
happy  you  are,  and  how  rich  you  have  grown,  and  that  in  all 
your  happiness  you  have  none  so  great  as  the  coming  back 
to  make  him  happy  too." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Oliver,  "  and  we'll — we'll  take  him  away 
from  here,  and  have  him  clothed  and  taught,  and  send  him 
to  some  quiet  country  place  where  he  may  grow  strong  and 
well — shall  we  ?  " 

Rose  nodded  "  yes  ;  "  for  the  boy  was  smiling  through 
such  happy  tears  that  she  could  not  speak. 

u  You  will  be  kind  and  good  to  him,  for  you  are  to  every 
one,"  said  Oliver.  "  It  will  make  you  cry,  I  know,  to  hear 
what  he  can  tell  ;  but  never  mind,  never  mind  ;  it  will  be  all 
over,  and  you  will  smile  again — I  know  that  too — to  think 
how  changed  he  is  ;  you  did  the  same  with  me.  He  said 
1  God  bless  you  '  to  me  when  I  ran  away,"  cried  the  boy, 
with  a  burst  of  affectionate  emotion,  "  and  I  will  say  '  God 
bless  you  '  now,  and  show  him  how  I  love  him  for  it !  " 

As  they  approached  the  town,  and  at  length  drove  through 
its  narrow  streets,  it  became  matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to 
restrain  the  boy  within  reasonable  bounds.  There  was 
Sowerberry's,  the  undertaker's,  just  as  it  used  to  be,  only 
smaller  and  less  imposing  in  appearance  than  he  remembered 
it — there  were  all  the  well-known  shops  and  houses,  with  al- 
most every  one  of  which  he  had  some  slight  incident  con- 
nected— there  was  Gamneld's  cart,  the  very  cart  he  used  to 
have,  standing  at  the  old  public-house  door — there  was  the 
work-house,  the  dreary  prison  of  his  youthful  days,  with  its 
dismal  windows  frowning  on  the  street — there  was  the  same 
lean  porter  standing  at  the  gate,  at  sight  of  whom  Oliver  in- 
voluntarily shrunk  back,  and  then  laughed  at  himself  for 
being  so  foolish,  then  cried,  then  laughed  again — there  were 
scores  of  faces  at  the  doors  and  windows  that  he  knew  quite 
well — there  was  nearly  every  thing  as  if  he  had  left  it  but 
yesterday,  and  all  his  recent  life  had  been  but  a  happy 
dream. 


394  OLIVER  TWIST. 

But  it  was  pure,  earnest,  joyful  reality.  They  drove 
straight  to  the  door  of  the  chief  hotel  (which  Oliver  used  to 
stare  up  at  with  awe,  and  think  a  mighty  palace,  but  which 
had  somehow  fallen  off  in  grandeur  and  size)  ;  and  here 
was  Mr.  Grimwig  all  ready  to  receive  them,  kissing  the 
young  lady,  and  the  old  one  too,  when  they  got  out  of  the 
.coach,  as  if  he  were  the  grandfather  of  the  whole  party,  all 
smiles  and  kindness,  and  not  offering  to  eat  his  head — no, 
not  once  ;  not  even  when  he  contradicted  a  very  old  postboy 
about  the  nearest  road  to  London,  and  maintained  he  knew 
it  best,  though  he  had  only  come  that  way  once,  and  that 
time  fast  asleep.  There  was  dinner  prepared,  and  there  were 
bedrooms  ready,  and  every  thing  was  arranged  as  if  by 
magic. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  when  the  hurry  of  the  first  half 
hour  was  over,  the  same  silence  and  constraint  prevailed  that 
had  marked  their  journey  down.  Mr.  Brownlow  did  not 
join  them  at  dinner,  but  remained  in  a  separate  room.  The 
two  other  gentlemen  hurried  in  and  out  with  anxious  faces, 
and  during  the  short  intervals  when  they  were  present  con- 
versed apart.  Once  Mrs.  Maylie  was  called  away,  and,  after 
being  absent  for  nearly  an  hour,  returned  with  eyes  swollen 
with  weeping.  All  these  things  made  Rose  and  Oliver,  who 
were  not  in  any  new  secrets,  nervous  and  uncomfortable. 
They  sat  wondering,  in  silence  ;  or,  if  they  exchanged  a  few 
words,  spoke  in  whispers,  as  if  they  were  afraid  to  hear  the 
sound  of  their  own  voices. 

At  length,  when  nine  o'clock  had  come,  and  they  began 
to  think  they  were  to  hear  no  more  that  night,  Mr.  Losberne 
and  Mr.  Grimwig  entered  the  room,  followed  by  Mr.  Brown- 
low  and  a  man  whom  Oliver  almost  shrieked  with  surprise 
to  see  ;  for  they  told  him  it  was  his  brother,  and  it  was  the 
same  man  he  had  met  at  the  market-town,  and  seen  looking 
in  with  Fagin  at  the  window  of  his  little  room.  Monks  cast 
a  look  of  hate,  which,  even  then,  he  could  not  dissemble,  at 
the  astonished  boy,  and  sat  down  near  the  door.  Mr. 
Brownlow,  who  had  papers  in  his  hand,  walked  to  a  table 
near  which  Rose  and  Oliver  were  seated. 

"  This  is  a  painful  task,"  said  he,  "  but  these  declarations, 
which  have  been  signed  in  London  before  many  gentlemen, 
must  be  in  substance  repeated  here.  I  would  have  spared 
you  the  degradation,  but  we  must  hear  them  from  your  own 
lips  before  we  part,  and  you  know  why." 


OLIVER  TWIST.  395 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  person  addressed,  turning  away  his  face. 
t  Quick.  I  have  almost  done  enough,  I  think.  Don't  keep 
me  here." 

"  This  child,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  drawing  Oliver  to  him, 
and  laying  his  hand  upon  his  head,  "  is  your  half-brother  ; 
the  illegitimate  son  of  your  father,  my  dear  friend  Edwin 
Leeford,  by  poor  young  Agnes  Fleming,  who  died  in  giving 
him  birth." 

"  Yes,"  said  Monks,  scowling  at  the  trembling  boy,  the 
beating  of  whose  heart  he  might  have  heard.  "  That  is  their 
bastard  child." 

"The  term  you  use,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  sternly,  "is  a 
reproach  to  those  who  long  since  passed  beyond  the  feeble 
censure  of  the  world.  It  reflects  disgrace  on  no  one  living, 
except  you  who  use  it.  Let  that  pass.  He  was  born  in  this 
town." 

"  In  the  work-house  of  this  town,"  was  the  sullen  reply. 
"  You  have  the  story  there."  He  pointed  impatiently  to  the 
papers  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  must  have  it  here,  too,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  looking 
round  upon  the  listeners. 

"  Listen  then  !  You  !  "  returned  Monks.  "  His  father 
being  taken  ill  at  Rome,  was  joined  by  his  wife,  my  mother, 
from  whom  he  had  been  long  separated,  who  went  from 
Paris  and  took  me  with  her — to  look  after  his  property,  for 
what  I  know,  for  she  had  no  great  affection  for  him,  nor  he 
for  her.  He  knew  nothing  of  us,  for  his  senses  were  gone, 
and  he  slumbered  on  till  next  day,  when  he  died.  Among 
the  papers  in  his  desk  were  two,  dated  on  the  night  his  ill- 
ness first  came  on,  directed  to  yourself — "  he  addressed  him- 
self to  Mr.  Brownlow — "  and  inclosed  in  a  few  short  lines  to 
you,  with  an  intimation  on  the  cover  of  the  package  that  it 
was  not  to  be  forwarded  till  after  he  was  dead.  One  of  these 
papers  was  a  letter  to  this  girl  Agnes  ;  the  other  a  will." 

"  What  of  the  letter  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"  The  letter  ? — A  sheet  of  paper  crossed  and  crossed  again, 
with  a  penitent  confession,  and  prayers  to  God  to  help  her. 
He  had  palmed  a  tale  on  the  girl  that  some  secret  mystery — 
to  be  explained  one  day — prevented  his  marrying  her  just 
then  ;  and  so  she  had  gone  on,  trusting  patiently  to  him, 
until  she  trusted  too  far,  and  lost  what  none  could  give  her 
back.  She  was  at  that  time  within  a  few  months  of  her  con- 
finement.    He  told  her  all  he  had  meant  to  do  to  hide  her 


39<>  OLIVER  TWIST. 

shame  if  he  had  lived,  and  prayed  her,  if  he  died,  not  to  curse 
his  memory,  or  think  the  consequences  of  their  sin  would  be 
visited  on  her  or  their  young  child  ;  for  all  the  guilt  was  his. 
He  reminded  her  of  the  day  he  had  given  her  the  little  locket 
and  the  ring  with  her  Christian  name  engraved  upon  it,  and 
a  blank  left  for  that  which  he  hoped  one  day  to  have  be- 
stowed upon  her — prayed  her  yet  to  keep  it,  and  wear  it  next 
her  heart,  as  she  had  done  before — and  then  ran  on  wildly  in 
the  same  words,  over  and  over  again,  as  if  he  had  gone  dis- 
tracted.    I  believe  he  had." 

"The  will,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  as  Oliver's  tears  fell  fast. 

Monks  was  silent. 

"The  will,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  speaking  for  him,  "was 
in  the  same  spirit  as  the  letter.  He  talked  of  miseries  which 
his  wife  had  brought  upon  him  ;  of  the  rebellious  disposition, 
vice,  malice,  and  premature  bad  passions  of  you,  his  only 
son,  who  had  been  trained  to  hate  him  ;  and  left  you  and 
your  mother  each  an  annuity  of  eight  hundred  pounds.  The 
bulk  of  his  property  he  divided  into  two  equal  portions — one 
for  Agnes  Fleming,  the  other  for  their  child,  if  it  should  be 
born  alive  and  ever  come  of  age.  If  it  was  a  girl,  it  was  to 
inherit  the  money  unconditionally  ;  but  if  a  boy,  only  on  the 
stipulation  that  in  his  minority  he  should  fieverhave  stained 
his  name  with  any  public  act  of  dishonor,  meanness,  coward- 
ice, or  wrong.  He  did  this,  he  said,  to  mark  his  confidence 
in  the  mother,  and  his  conviction — only  strengthened  by 
approaching  death — that  the  child  would  share  her  gentle 
heart  and  noble  nature.  If  he  were  disappointed  in  this 
expectation,  then  the  money  was  to  come  to  you  ;  for  then, 
and  not  till  then,  when  both  children  were  equal,  would  he 
recognize  your  prior  claim  upon  his  purse,  who  had  none  upon 
his  heart,  but  had,  from  an  infant,  repulsed  him  with  cold- 
ness and  aversion. 

"  My  mother,"  said  Monks,  in  a  louder  tone,  "  did  what  a 
woman  should  have  done.  She  burned  this  will.  The  let- 
ter never  reached  its  destination  ;  but  that  and  other  proofs 
she  kept,  in  case  they  ever  tried  to  lie  away  the  blot.  The 
girl's  father  had  the  truth  from  her  with  every  aggravation 
that  her  violent  hate — I  love  her  for  it  now — could  add. 
Goaded  by  shame  and  dishonor,  he  fled  with  his  children 
into  a  remote  corner  of  Wales,  changing  his  very  name,  that 
his  friends  might  never  know  of  his  retreat  ;  and  here,  ne 
great  while  afterward,  he  was  found  dead  in  his  bed.      The 


OLIVER  TWIST.  397 

girl  had  left  her  home,  in  secret,  some  weeks  before  ;  he  had 
searched  for  her,  on  foot,  in  every  town  and  village  near  ;  it 
was  on  the  night  when  he  returned  home,  assured  that  she 
had  destroyed  herself  to  hide  her  shame  and  his,  that  his  old 
heart  broke." 

There  was  a  short  silence  here,  until  Mr.  Brownlow  took 
up  the  thread  of  the  narrative. 

"  Years  after  this,"  he  said,  "  this  man's — Edward  Lee- 
ford's — mother  came  to  me.  He  had  left  her  when  only 
eighteen  ;  robbed  her  of  jewels  and  money ;  gambled, 
squandered,  forged,  and  fled  to  London,  where  for  two  years 
he  had  associatedvvith  the  lowest  outcasts.  She  was  sinking 
under  a  painful  and  incurable  disease,  and  wished  to  recover 
him  before  she  died.  Inquiries  were  set  on  foot,  and  strict 
searches  made.  They  were  unavailing  for  a  long  time,  but 
ultimately  successful  ;  and  he  went  back  with  her  to  France." 

"There  she  died,"  said  Monks,  "after  a  lingering  illness  ; 
and  on  her  death-bed  she  bequeathed  these  secrets  to  me, 
together  with  her  unquenchable  and  deadly  hatred  of  all 
whom  they  involved — though  she  need  not  have  left  me  that, 
for  I  had  inherited  it  long  before.  She  would  no*,  believe 
that  the  girl  had  destroyed  herself  and  the  child  too,  but  was 
filled  with  the  impression  that  a  male  child  had  been  born, 
and  was  alive.  I  swore  to  her,  if  ever  it  crossed  my  path,  to 
hunt  it  down  ;  never  to  let  it  rest ;  to  pursue  it  with  the  bit- 
terest and  most  unrelenting  animosity  ;  to  vent  upon  it  the 
hatred  that  I  deeply  felt,  and  to  spit  upon  the  empty  vaunt 
of  that  insulting  will  by  dragging  it,  if  I  could,  to  the  very 
gallows-foot.  She  was  right.  He  came  in  my  way  at  last.  I 
began  well  ;  and,  but  for  babbling  drabs,  I  would  have  fin- 
ished as  I  began  !  " 

As  the  villain  folded  his  arms  tight  together,  and  muttered 
curses  on  himself  in  the  impotence  of  baffled  malice,  Mr. 
Brownlow  turned  to  the  terrified  group  beside  him,  and  ex- 
plained that  the  Jew,  who  had  been  his  old  accomplice  and 
confidant,  had  a  large  reward  for  keeping  Oliver  ensnared, 
of  which  some  part  was  to  be  given  up  in  the  event  of  his 
being  rescued,  and  that  a  dispute  on  this  head  had  led  to 
their  visit  to  the  country  house  for  the  purpose  of  identify- 
ing him. 

The  locket  and  ring  ? "  said   Mr.   Brownlow,  turning  to 
Monks. 

"  I  bought  them  from  the  man  and  woman  I  told  you  of, 


395  OLIVER  TWIST. 

who  stole  them  from  the  nurse,  who  stole  them  from  the 
corpse,"  answered  Monks,  without  raising  his  eyes.  "  You 
know  what  became  of  them." 

Mr.  Brownlow  merely  nodded  to  Mr.  Grimwig,  who 
disappearing  with  great  alacrity,  shortly  returned,  pushing  in 
Mrs.  Bumble,  and  dragging  her  unwilling  consort  after  him. 

"  Do  my  h'is  deceive  me  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bumble,  with  ill- 
feigned  enthusiasm,  "  or  is  that  little  Oliver  ?  Oh  Ol-i-ver, 
if  you  know'd  how  I've  been  grieving  for  you — " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  fool  ! "  murmured  Mrs.  Bumble. 

"Isn't  natur  natur,  Mrs.  Bumble?"  remonstrated  the 
work-house  master.  "  Can't  I  be  supposed  to  feel — /  as 
brought  him  up  porochially — when  I  see  him  a-setting  here 
among  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  very  affablest  description  ! 
I  always  loved  that  boy  as  if  he'd  been  my — my — my  own 
grandfather,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  halting  for  an  appropriate 
comparison.  "  Master  Oliver,  my  dear,  you  remember  the 
blessed  gentleman  in  the  white  waistcoat  ?  Ah  !  he  went  to 
heaven  last  week,  in  a  oak  coffin  with  plated  handles,  Oli- 
ver." 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  tartly  ;  "  suppress  your 
feelings." 

"  I  will  do  my  endeavors,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Bumble.  "  How 
do  you  do,  sir?     I  hope  you  are  very  well." 

This  salutation  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Brownlow,  who  had 
stepped  up  to  within  a  short  distance  of  the  respectable 
couple.     He  inquired,  as  he  pointed  to  Monks  : 

"  Do  you  know  that  person  ?  " 

*'  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Bumble,  flatly. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  ?"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  addressing  her 
spouse. 

"  I  never  saw  him  in  all  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Bumble. 

"  Nor  sold  him  any  thing,  perhaps  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Bumble. 

"  You  never  had,  perhaps,  a  certain  gold  locket  and  ring  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Brownlow. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  matron.  "  Why  are  we 
brought  here  to  answer  to  such  nonsense  as  this  ? " 

Again  Mr.  Brownlow  nodded  to  Mr.  Grimwig  ;  and  again 
that  gentleman  limped  away  with  extraordinary  readiness. 
But  not  again  did  he  return  with  a  stout  man  and  his  wife  ; 
for  this  time  he  led  in  two  palsied  women,  who  shook  and 
tottered  as  they  walked. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  399 

"You  shut  the  door  the  night  old  Sally  died,"  said  the 
foremost  one,  raising  her  shriveled  hand,  but  you  couldn't 
shut  out  the  sound,  nor  stop  the  chinks." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  other,  looking  around  her  and  wagging 
her  toothless  jaws.     "  No,  no,  no." 

"We  heard  her  try  to  tell  you  what  she'd  done,  and  saw 
you  take  a  paper  from  her  hand,  and  watched  you  too,  next 
day,  to  the  pawnbroker's  shop,"  said  the  first. 

Yes,"  added  the  second,  .  and  it  was  a  '  locket  and  gold 
ring.'  We  found  out  that,  and  saw  it  given  you.  We 
were  by.     Oh  !  we  were  by." 

"And  we  know  more  than  that,"  resumed  the  first,  "for 
she  told  us  often,  long  ago,  that  the  young  mother  had  told 
her  that,  feeling  she  should  never  get  over  it,  she  was  on  her 
way,  at  the  time  she  was  taken  ill,  to  die  near  the  grave  of 
the  father  of  the  child." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  pawnbroker  himself  ? "  asked 
Mr.  Grimwig,  with  a  motion  toward  the  door. 

"No,"  replied  the  woman;  "if  he" — she  pointed  to 
Monks — "  has  been  coward  enough  to  confess,  as  I  see  he 
has,  and  you  have  sounded  all  these  hags  till  you  have  found 
the  right  ones,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  I  did  sell  them, 
and  they're  where  you'll  never  get  them.  What  then?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  except  that  it  remains 
for  us  to  take  care  that  neither  of  you  is  employed,  in  a  situ- 
ation of  trust  again.     You  may  leave  the  room." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  looking  about  him  with  great 
ruefulness,  as  Mr.  Grimwig  disappeared  with  the  two  old 
women — "  I  hope  this  unfortunate  little  circumstance  will  not 
deprive  me  of  my  porochial  office  ?  " 

Indeed  it  will,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  You  may 
make  up  your  mind  to  that,  and  think  yourself  well  off 
besides." 

"  It  was  all  Mrs.  Bumble.  She  would ^o  it,"  urged  Mr. 
Bumble,  first  looking  round  to  ascertain  that  his  partner  had 
left  the  room. 

"  That  is  no  excuse,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  You  were 
present  on  the  occasion  of  the  destruction  of  these  trinkets, 
and  indeed  are  the  more  guilty  of  the  two,  in  the  eye  of  the 
law  ;  for  the  law  supposes  that  your  wife  acts  under  your 
direction." 

"  If  the  law  supposes  that,"  said  Mr.  Bumble,  squeezing 
his  hat  emphatically  in  both  hands,  "  the  law  is  a  ass — a 


400  OLIVER  TWIST. 

idiot.  If  that's  the  eye  of  the  law,  the  law  is  a  bachelor  \ 
and  the  worst  I  wish  the  law  is,  that  his  eye  may  be  opened 
by  experience — by  experience." 

Laying  great  stress  on  the  repetition  of  these  two  words, 
Mr.  Bumble  fixed  his  hat  on  very  tight,  and,  putting  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  followed  his  help-mate  down  stairs. 

"Young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  turning  to  Rose,  "give 
me  your  hand.  Do  not  tremble.  You  need  not  fear  to  hear 
the  few  remaining  words  we  have  to  say." 

"  If  they  have — I  do  not  know  how  they  can,  but  if  they 
have — any  reference  to  me,"  said  Rose,  pray  let  me  hear 
them  at  some  other  time.  I  have  not  strength  or  spirits 
now." 

"  Nay,"  returned  .the  old  gentleman,  drawing  her  arm 
through  his  ;  "  you  have  more  fortitude  than  this,  I  am  sure. 
Do  you  know  this  young  lady,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Monks. 

"  I  never  saw  you  before,"  said  Rose,  faintly. 

"  I  have  seen  you  often,"  returned  Monks. 

"  The  father  of  the  unhappy  Agnes  had  two  daughters," 
said  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  What  was  the  fate  of  the  other — the 
child  ? " 

"  The  child,"  replied  Monks  ;  "  when  her  father  died  in 
a  strange  place,  in  a  strange  name,  without  a  letter,  book,  or 
scrap  of  paper  that  yielded  the  faintest  clue  by  which  his 
friends  or  relatives  could  be  traced — the  child  was  taken  by 
some  wretched  cottagers,  who  reared  it  as  their  own." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  signing  to  Mrs.  Maylie  to 
approach.     "  Go  on  !  " 

"  You  couldn't  find  the  spot  to  which  these  people  had 
repaired,"  said  Monks  ;  "  but  where  friendship  fails,  hatred 
will  often  force  a  way.  My  mother  found  it,  after  a  year  of 
cunning  search — ay,  and  found  the  child." 

"  She  took  it,  did  she  ?  " 

"  No.  The  people  were  poor  and  began  to  sicken — at 
least  the  man  did — of  their  fine  humanity  ;  so  she  left  it  with 
them,  giving  them  a  small  present  of  money  which  would 
not  last  long,  and  promising  more  which  she  never  meant  to 
send.  She  didn't  quite  rely,  however,  on  their  discontent 
and  poverty  for  the  child's  unhapptness,  but  told  the  his- 
tory of  her  sister's  shame,  with  such  alterations  as  suited 
her  ;  bade  them  take  good  heed  of  the  child,  for  she  came 
of  bad  blood  ;  and  told  them  she  was  illegitimate,  and  sure 


OLIVER  TWIST.  401 

to  go  wrong  at  one  time  or  other.  The  circumstances  coun- 
tenanced all  this  ;  the  people  believed  it  ;  and  there  the 
child  dragged  on  an  existence,  miserable  enough  to  satisfy 
us,  until  a  widow  lady,  residing  then  at  Chester,  saw  the  girl 
by  chance,  pitied  her,  and  took  her  home.  There  was  some 
cursed  spell,  I  think,  against  us;  for  in  spite  of  all  our  efforts 
she  remained  there  and  was  happy.  I  lost  sight  of  her  two 
or  three  years  ago,  and  saw  her  no  more  until  a  few  months 
back." 

"  Do  you  see  her  now  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Leaning  on  your  arm." 

-.'  But  not  the  less  my  niece,"  cried  Mrs.  Maylie,  folding 
the  fainting  girl  in  her  arms  ;  '  not  the  less  my  dearest  child. 
I  would  not  lose  her  now  for  all  the  treasures  of  the  world. 
My  sweet  companion,  my  own  dear  girl  !  " 

"  The  only  friend  I  ever  had,"  cried  Rose,  clinging  to  her. 
"  The  kindest,  best  of  friends.  My  heart  will  burst.  I  can 
not  bear  all  this  !  " 

"  You  have  borne  more,  and  have  been  through  all  the 
best  and  gentlest  creature  that  ever  shed  happiness  on  every 
one  she  knew,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  embracing  her  tenderly. 
"  Come,  come,  my  love,  remember  who  this  is  who  waits  to 
clasp  you  in  his  arms,  poor  child  !  See  here — look,  look, 
my  dear  !  " 

"  Not  aunt,"  cried  Oliver,  throwing  his  arms  about  her 
neck  ;  "  I'll  never  call  her  aunt — sister,  my  own  dear  sister, 
that  something  taught  my  heart  to  love  so  dearly  from  the 
first  !     Rose  !  dear,  darling  Rose  !  " 

Let  the  tears  which  fell,  and  the  broken  words  which 
were  exchanged  in  the  long  close  embrace  between  the  or- 
phans be  sacred.  A  father,  sister,  and  mother  were  gained 
and  lost  in  that  one  moment.  Joy  and  grief  were  mingled 
in  the  cup  ;  but  there  were  no  bitter  tears:  for  even  grief 
itself  arose  so  softened,  and  clothed  in  such  sweet  and  ten- 
der recollections,  that  it  became  a  solemn  pleasure,  and  lost 
all  character  of  pain. 

They  were  a  long,  long  time  alone.  A  soft  tap  at  the 
door  at  length  announced  that  some  one  was  without.  Oliver 
opened  it,  glided  away,  and  gave  place  to  Harry  Maylie. 

"  I  know  it  all,"  he  said,  taking  a  seat  beside  the  lovely 
girl.     "Dear  Rose,  I  know  it  all." 

"  I  am  not  here  by  accident,"  he  added,  after  a  lengthened 
silence  ;    "  nor  have  I  heard  all  this  to-night,  for  I  knew  it 


402  OLIVER  TWIST. 

yesterday — only  yesterday.     Do  you  guess  that  I  have  come 
to  remind  you  of  a  promise  ?  " 

"  Stay,"  said  Rose.     "  You  do  know  all." 

"  All.  You  gave  me  leave,  at  any  time  within  a  year,  to 
renew  the  subject  of  our  last  discourse." 

"I  did." 

"  Not  to  press  you  to  alter  your  determination,"  pursued 
the  young  man,  "  but  to  hear  you  repeat  it,  if  you  would. 
I  was  to  lay  whatever  of  station  or  fortune  I  might  possess 
at  your  feet;  and  if  you  still  adhered  to  your  former  deter- 
mination, I  pledged  myself,  by  no  word  or  act,  to  seek  to 
change  it." 

"  The  same  reasons  which  influenced  me  then  will  influ- 
ence me  now,"  said  Rose,  firmly.  "  If  I  ever  owed  a  strict 
and  rigid  duty  to  her  whose  goodness  saved  me  from  a  life 
of  indigence  and  suffering,  when  should  I  ever  feel  it  as  I 
should  to-night  ?  It  is  a  struggle,"  said  Rose,  "  but  one  I 
am  proud  to  make  ;  it  is  a  pang,  but  one  my  heart  shall 
bear." 

"The  disclosure  of  to-night — "  Harry  began. 

"The  disclosure  of  to-night,"  replied  Rose,  softly,  "leaves 
me  in  the  same  position,  with  reference  to  you,  as  that  in 
which  I  stood  before." 

"You  harden  your  heart  against  me,  Rose,"  urged  her 
lover,. 

"  Oh,  Harry,  Harry,"  said  the  young  lady,  bursting 
into  tears, "  I  wish  I  could,  and  spare  myself  this  pain." 

"Then  why  inflict  it  on  yourself  ?"  said  Harry,  taking  her 
hand.  "  Think,  dear  Rose,  think  what  you  have  heard  to- 
night." 

And  what  have  I  heard  !  What  have  I  heard  !  "  cried 
Rose.  "  That  a  sense  of  his  deep  disgrace  so  worked  upon 
my- own  father  that  he  shunned  all — there,  we  have  said 
enough,  Harry,  we  have  said  enough." 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,"  said  the  young  man,  detaining  her  as 
she  arose.  "  My  hopes,  my  wishes,  prospects,  feelings — 
every  thought  in  life  except  my  love  for  you — have  under- 
gone a  change.  I  offer  you,  now,  no  distinction  among  a 
bustling  crowd  ;  no  mingling  with  a  world  of  malice  and 
detraction,  where  the  blood  is  called  into  honest  cheeks  by 
aught  but  real  disgrace  and  shame  ;  but  a  home — a  heart 
and  home — yes,  dearest  Rose  ;  and  those,  and  those  alone, 
are  all  I  have  to  offer." 


OLIVER  TWIST. 


4°3 


"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"I  mean  but  this — that  when  I  left  you  last,  I  left  you 
with  a  firm  determination  to  level  all  fancied  barriers  be- 
tween yourself  and  me  ;  resolved  that  if  my  world  could  not 
be  yours,  I  would  make  yours  mine  ;  that  no  pride  of  birth 
should  curl  the  lip  at  you,  for  I  would  turn  from  it.  This  I 
have  done.  Those  who  have  shrunk  from  me  because  of 
this,  have  shrunk  from  you,  and  proved  you  so  far  right. 
Such  power  and  patronage,  such  relatives  of  influence  and 
rank,  as  smiled  upon  me  then,  look  coldly  now;  but  there 
are  smiling  fields  and  waving  trees  in  England's  richest 
county;  and  by  one  village  church — mine,  Rose,  my  own  ! 
there  stands  a  rustic  dwelling  which  you  can  make  me 
prouder  of  than  all  the  hopes  I  have  renounced,  measured  a 
thousand-fold.     This  is  my  rank  and  station  now,  and  here 

I  lay  it  down  !  " 

*  *  #  *  *  *  * 

"It's  a  trying  thing  waiting  supper  for  lovers,"  said  Mr. 
Grimwig,  waking  up,  and  pulling  his  pocket-handkerchief 
from  over  his  head. 

Truth  to  tell,  the  supper  had  been  waiting  a  most  un- 
reasonable time.  Neither  Mrs.  Maylie,  nor  Harry,  nor  Rose 
(who  all  came  in  together),  could  offer  a  word  in  extenua- 
tion. 

"I  had  serious  thoughts  of  eating  my  head  to-night,"  said 
Mr.  Grimwig,  "  for  I  began  to  think  I  should  get  nothing 
else.  I'll  take  the  liberty,  if  you'll  allow  me,  of  saluting  the 
bride  that  is  to  be." 

Mr.  Grimwig  lost  no  time  in  carrying  this  notice  into 
effect  upon  the  blushing  girl  ;  and  the  example  being  con- 
tagious, was  followed  both  by  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Brownlow; 
some  people  affirm  that  Harry  Maylie  had  been  observed  to 
set  it,  originally,  in  a  dark  room  adjoining  ;  but  the  best 
authorities  consider  this  downright  scandal,  he  being  young 
and  a  clergyman. 

"Oliver,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Maylie,  "where  have  you 
been,  and  why  do  you  look  so  sad  ?  There  are  tears  steal- 
ing down  your  face  at  this  moment.     What  is  the  matter  ? " 

It  is  a  world  of  disappointment — often  to  the  hopes  we 
most  cherish,  and  hopes  that  do  our  nature  the  greatest 
honor. 

Poor  Dick  was  dead. 


4o4  OLIVER  TWIST. 

CHAPTER  LIL 

fagin's  last  night  alive. 

The  court  was  paved  from  floor  to  roof  with  human  faces. 
Inquisitive  and  eager  eyes  peered  from  every  inch  of  space. 
From  the  rail  before  the  dock,  away  into  the  sharpest  angle 
of  the  smallest  corner  of  the  galleries,  all  looks  were  fixed 
upon  one  man — Fagin.  Before  him  and  behind — above, 
below,  on  the  right  and  on  the  left — he  seemed  to  stand 
surrounded  by  a  firmament  all  bright  with  gleaming  eyes. 

He  stood  there,  in  all  this  glare  of  living  light,  with  one 
hand  resting  on  the  wooden  slab  before  him,  the  other  held 
to  his  ear,  and  his  head  thrust  forward  to  enable  him  to 
catch  with  greater  distinctness  every  word  that  fell  from"  the 
presiding  judge,  who  was  delivering  his  charge  to  the  jury. 
At  times  he  turned  his  eyes  sharply  upon  them,  to  observe 
the  effect  of  the  slightest  feather-weight  in  his  favor  ;  and 
when  the  points  against  him  were  stated  with  terrible  dis- 
tinctness, looked  toward  his  counsel,  in  mute  appeal  that 
he  would,  even  then,  urge  something  in  his  behalf.  Beyond 
these  manifestations  of  anxiety,  he  stirred  not  hand  or  foot. 
He  had  scarcely  moved  since  the  trial  began;  and  now  that 
the  judge  ceased  to  speak,  he  still  remained  in  the  same 
strained  attitude  of  close  attention,  with  his  gaze  bent  on 
him,  as  though  he  listened  still. 

A  slight  bustle  in  the  court  recalled  him  to  himself. 
Looking  round,  he  saw  that  the  jurymen  had  turned  to- 
gether, to  consider  of  their  verdict.  As  his  eyes  wandered 
to  the  gallery,  he  could  see  the  people  rising  above  each 
other  to  see  his  face,  some  hastily  applying  their  glasses  to 
their  eyes,  and  others  whispering  their  neighbors  with  looks 
expressive  of  abhorrence.  A  few  there  were  who  seemed 
unmindful  of  him,  and  looked  only  to  the  jury,  in  impatient 
wonder  how  they  could  delay.-  But  in  no  one  face — not 
even  among  the  women,  of  whom  there  were  many  there — 
could  he  read  the  faintest  sympathy  with  himself,  or  any 
feeling  but  one  of  all-absorbing  interest  that  he  should  be 
condemned.  / 

As  he  saw  all  this  in  one  bewildered  glance,  the  death-like 
stillness  came  again,  and  looking  back,  he  saw  that  the  jury- 
men had  turned  toward  the  judge. 


OLIVER  TWIST.  405 

Hush  ! 

They  only  sought  permission  to  retire. 

He  looked  wistfully  into  their  faces,  one  by  one,  when 
they  passed  out,  as  though  to  see  which  way  the  greater 
number  leaned;  but  that  was  fruitless.  The  jailer  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder.  He  followed  mechanically  to  the  end 
of  the  dock,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair.  The  man  pointed  it 
out,  or  he  would  not  have  seen  it. 

He  looked  up  into  the  gallery  again.  Some  of  the  people 
were  eating,  and  some  fanning  themselves  with  handker- 
chiefs ;  for  the  crowded  place  was  very  hot.  There  was 
one  young  mm  sketching  his  face  in  a  little  note-book.  He 
wondered  whether  it  was  like,  and  looked  on  when  the 
artist  broke  his  pencil-point  and  made  another  with  his 
knife,  as  any  idle  spectator  might  have  done. 

In  the  same  way,  when  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  the 
judge,  his  mind  began  to  busy  itself  with  the  fashion  of  his 
dress,  and  what  it  cost,  and  how  he  put  it  on.  There  was 
an  old  fat  gentleman  on  the  bench,  too,  who  had  gone  out 
some  half  an  hour  before,  and  now  come  back.  He  wondered 
within  himself  whether  this  man  had  been  to  get  his  dinner, 
what  he  had  had,  and  where  he  had  had  it  ;  and  pursued 
this  train  of  careless  thought  until  some  new  object  caught 
his  eye  and  roused  another. 

Not  that,  all  this  time,  his  mind  was  for  an  instant  free 
from  one  oppressive,  overwhelming  sense  of  the  grave  that 
opened  at  his  feet  :  it  was  ever  present  to  him,  but  in  a 
vague  and  general  way,  and  he  could  not  fix  his  thoughts 
upon  it.  Thus,  even  while  he  trembled,  and  turned  burning 
hot  at  the  idea  of  speedy  death,  he  fell  to  counting  the  iron 
spikes  before  him,  and  wondering  how  the  head  of  one  had 
been  broken  off,  and  whether  they  would  mend  it,  or  leave 
it  as  it  was.  Then  he  thought  of  all  the  horrors  of  the  gal- 
lows and  the  scaffold — and  stopped  to  watch  a  man  sprink- 
ling the  floor  to  cool  it — and  then  went  on  to  think  again. 

At  length  there  was  a  cry  of  silence,  and  a  breathless  look 
from  all  toward  the  door.  The  jury  returned,  and  passed 
him  close.  He  could  glean  nothing  from  their  faces  ;  they 
might  as  well  have  been  of  stone.  Perfect  stillness  ensued 
— not  a  rustle — not  a  breath — Guilty. 

The  building  rang  with  a  tremendous  shout,  and  another, 
and  another,  and  then  it  echoed  loud  groans,  that  gathered 
strength  as  they  swelled  out,   like  angry  thunder.     It  was  a 


40(3  OLIVER  TWIST. 

peal  of  joy  from  the  populace  outside,  greeting  the  news 
that  he  would  die  on  Monday. 

The  noise  subsided,  and  he  was  asked  if  he  had  any 
thing  to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed 
upon  him.  He  had  resumed  his  listening  attitude,  and 
looked  intently  at  his  questioner  while  the  demand  was 
made  ;  but  it  was  twice  repeated  before  he  seemed  to  hear 
it,  and  then  he  only  muttered  that  he  was  an  old  man — an 
old  man — an  old  man — and  so,  dropping  into  a  whisper, 
was  silent  again. 

The  judge  assumed  the  black  cap,  and  the  prisoner  still 
stood  with  the  same  air  and  gesture.  A  woman  in  the  gal- 
lery uttered  some  exclamation,  called  forth  by  this  dread 
solemnity  ;  he  looked  hastily  up  as  if  angry  at  the  interrup- 
tion, and  bent  forward  yet  more  attentively.  The  address 
was  solemn  and  impressive,  the  sentence  fearful  to  hear. 
But  he  stood  like  a  marble  figure,  without  the  motion  of  a 
nerve.  His  haggard  face  was  still  thrust  forward,  his  under- 
jaw  hanging  down,  and  his  eyes  staring  out  before  him, 
when  the  jailer  put  his  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  beckoned 
him  away.  He  gazed  stupidly  about  him  for  an  instant, 
and  obeyed. 

They  led  him  through  a  paved  room  under  the  court, 
where  some  prisoners  were  waiting  till  their  turns  came,  and 
others  were  talking  to  their  friends,  whocrowded  round  a  grate 
which  looked  into  the  open  yard.  There  was  nobody  there  to 
speak  to  him  j  but,  as  he  passed,  the  prisoners  fell  back  to  ren- 
der him  more  visible  to  the  people  who  were  clinging  to  the 
bars  ;  and  they  assailed  him  with  opprobrious  names,  and 
screeched  and  hissed.  He  shook  his  fist,  and  would  have 
spat  upon  them  ;  but  his  conductors  hurried  him  on,  through 
a  gloomy  passage  lighted  by  a  few  dim  lamps,  into  the  inte- 
rior of  the  prison. 

Here  he  was  searched,  that  he  might  not  have  about  him 
the  means  of  anticipating  the  law  ;  this  ceremony  performed, 
they  led  him  to  one  of  the  condemned  cells,  and  left  him 
there — alone. 

He  sat  down  on  a  stone  bench  opposite  the  door,  which 
served  for  seat  and  bedstead  ;  and  casting  his  blood-shot 
eyes  upon  the  ground,  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts.  After 
a  while  he  began  to  remember  a  few  disjointed  fragments  of 
what  the  judge  had  said,  though  it  had  seemed  to  him  at 
the  time  that  he  could  not  hear  a  word.     These   gradually 


OLIVER  TWIST.  407 

fell  into  their  proper  places,  and  by  degrees  suggested  more; 
so  that  in  a  little  time  he  had  the  whole,  almost  as  it  was 
delivered.  To  be  hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  was  dead— that 
was  the  end.     To  be  hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  was  dead. 

As  it  came  on  very  dark,  he  began  to  think  of  all  the  men 
he  had  known  who  had  died  upon  the  scaffold — some  of 
them  through  his  means.  They  rose  up  in  such  quick 
succession  that  he  could  hardly  count  them.  He  had  seen 
some  of  them  die — and  had  joked,  too,  because  they  died 
with  prayers  upon  their  lips.  With  what  a  rattling  noise 
the  drop  went  down  !  and  how  suddenly  they  changed  from 
strong  and  vigorous  men  to  dangling  heaps  of  clothes  ! 

Some  of  them  might  have  inhabited  that  very  cell — sat 
upon  that  very  spot.  It  was  very  dark  ;  why  didn't  they 
bring  a  light  ?  The  cell  had  been  built  for  many  years. 
Scores  of  men  must  have  passed  their  last  hours  there.  It 
was  like  sitting  in  a  vault  strewn  with  dead  bodies — the  cap, 
the  noose,  the  pinioned  arms,  the  faces  that  he  knew,  even 
beneath  that  hideous  veil. — Light  !  light  ! 

At  length,  when  his  hands  were  raw  with  beating  against 
the  heavy  door  and  walls,  two  men  appeared,  one  bearing  a 
candle,  which  he  thrust  into  an  iron  candlestick  fixed  against 
the  wall,  the  other  dragging  in  a  mattress  on  which  to  pass 
the  night  ;  for  the  prisoner  was  to  be  left  alone  no  more. 

Then  came  night — dark,  dismal,  silent  night.  Other 
watchers  are  glad  to  hear  the  church-clocks  strike,  for  they 
tell  of  life  and  coming  day.  To  him  they  brought  despair. 
The  boom  of  every  iron  bell  came  laden  with  the  one  deep, 
hollow  sound — Death.  What  availed  the  noise  and  bustle 
of  cheerful  morning,  which  penetrated  even  there,  to  him  ? 
It  was  another  form  of  knell,  with  mockery  added  to  the 
warning. 

The  day  passed  off.  Day  ?  There  was  no  day  ;  it  was 
gone  as  soon  as  come — and  night  came  on  again  ;  night  so 
long,  and  yet  so  short  ;  long  in  its  dreadful  silence,  and 
short  in  its  fleeting  hours.  At  one  time  he  raved  and  blas- 
phemed ;  and  at  another  howled  and  tore  his  hair.  Vener- 
able men  of  his  own  persuasion  had  come  to  pray  beside 
him,  but  he  had  driven  them  away  with  curses.  They 
renewed  their  charitable  efforts,  and  he  beat  them  off. 

Saturday  night.  He  had  only  one  night  more  to  live. 
And  as  he  thought  of  this,  the  day  broke — Sunday. 

It  was  not  until  the  night  of  this  last  awful  day,  that  a 


4o8  OLIVER  TWIST. 

withering  sense  of  bis  helpless,  desperate  state  came  in  its 
full  intensity  upon  his  blighted  soul  ;  not  that  he  had  ever 
held  any  denned  or  positive  hope  of  mercy,  but  that  he  had 
never  been  able  to  consider  more  than  the  dim  probability 
of  dying  so  soon.  He  had  spoken  little  to  either  of  the  two 
men  who  relieved  each  other  in  their  attendance  upon  him  ; 
and  they,  for  their  parts,  made  no  effort  to  rouse  his  atten- 
tion. He  had  sat  there,  awake,  but  dreaming.  Now,  he 
started  up  every  minute,  and  with  gasping  mouth  and 
burning  skin  hurried  to  and  fro,  in  such  a  paroxysm  of  fear 
and  wrath  that  even  they — used  to  such  sights — recoiled 
from  him  with  horror.  He  grew  so  terrible,  at  last,  in  all 
the  tortures  of  his  evil  conscience,  that  one  man  could  not 
bear  to  sit  there,  eying  him,  alone  ;  and  so  the  two  kept 
watch  together. 

He  cowered  down  upon  his  stone  bed,  and  thought  of  the 
past.  He  had  been  wounded  with  some  missiles  from  the 
crowd  on  the  day  of  his  capture,  and  his  head  Avas  band- 
aged with  a  linen  cloth.  His  red  hair  hung  down  upon  his 
bloodless  face  ;  his  beard  was  torn,  and  twisted  into  knots  ; 
his  eyes  shone  with  a  terrible  light  ;  his  unwashed  flesh 
crackled  with  the  fever  that  burned  him  up.  Eight — nine — 
ten.  If  it  was  not  a  trick  to  frighten  him,  and  those  were 
the  real  hours  treading  on  each  other's  heels,  where  would 
he  be  when  they  came  round  again  !  Eleven  !  Another  struck, 
before  the  voice  of  the  previous  hour  had  ceased  to  vibrate. 
At  eight,  he  would  be  the  only  mourner  in  his  own  funeral 
train  ;  at  eleven — 

Those  dreadful  walls  of  Newgate,  which  have  hidden  so 
much  misery  and  such  unspeakable  anguish,  not  only  from 
the  eyes,  but,  too  often,  and  too  long,  from  the  thoughts  of 
men,  never  held  so  dread  a  spectacle  as  that.  The  few  who 
lingered  as  they  passed,  and  wondered  what  the  man  was 
doing  who  was  to  be  hanged  to-morrow,  would  have  slept 
but  ill  that  night  if  they  could  have  seen  him. 

From  early  in  the  evening  until  nearly  midnight  little 
groups  of  two  and  three  presented  themselves  at  the  lodge- 
gate,  and  inquired,  with  anxious  faces,  whether  any  reprieve 
had  been  received.  These  being  answered  in  the  negative, 
communicated  the  welcome  intelligence  to  clusters  in  the 
street,  who  pointed  out  to  one  another  the  door  from  which 
he  must  come  out,  and  showed  where  the  scaffold  would  be 
built,  and,  walking  with  unwilling  steps  away,  turned  back 


OLIVER  TWIST.  409 

to  conjure  up  the  scene.  By  degrees  they  fell  off,  one  by 
one  ;  and  for  an  hour,  in  the  dead  of  night,  the  street  was 
left  to  solitude  and  darkness. 

The  space  before  the  prison  was  cleared,  and  a  few  strong 
barriers,  painted  black,  had  been  already  thrown  across  the 
road  to  break  the  pressure  of  the  expected  crowd,  when  Mr. 
Brownlow  and  Oliver  appeared  at  the  wicket,  and  presented 
an  order  of  admission  to  the  prisoner,  signed  by  one  of  the 
sheriffs.     They  were  immediately  admitted  into  the  lodge. 

*'  Is  the  young  gentleman  to  come  too,  sir  ? "  said  the  man 
whose  duty  it  was  to  conduct  them.  "  It's  not  a  sight  for 
children,  sir." 

"  It  is  not,  indeed,  my.  friend,"  rejoined  Mr.  Brownlow  ; 
a  but  my  business  with  this  man  is  intimately  connected  with 
him  ;  and  as  this  child  has  seen  him  in  the  full  career  of  his 
success  and  villainy,  I  think  it  as  well — even  at  the  cost  of 
some  pain  and  fear — that  he  should  see  him  now." 

These  few  words  had  been  said  apart,  so  as  to  be  inaudible 
to  Oliver.  The  man  touched  his  hat,  and  glancing  at  Oliver 
with  some  curiosity,  opened  another  gate  opposite  to  that 
by  which  they  had  entered,  and  led  them  on  through  dark 
and  winding  ways  toward  the  cells. 

"  This,"  said  the  man,  stopping  in  a  gloomy  passage  where 
a  couple  of  workmen  were  making  some  preparations  in  pro- 
found silence — "this  is  the  place 4ie  passes  through.  If  you 
step  this  way,  you  can  see  the  door  he  goes  out  at." 

He  led  them  into  a  stone  kitchen,  fitted  with  coppers  for 
dressing  the  prison  food,  and  pointed  to  a  door.  There  was 
an  open  grating  above  it  through  which  came  the  sound  of 
men's  voices,  mingled  with  the  noise  of  hammering  and  the 
throwing  down  of  boards.  They  were  putting  up  the 
scaffold. 

From  this  place  they  passed  through  several  strong  gates, 
opened  by  other  turnkeys  from  the  inner  side,  and,  having 
entered  an  open  yard,  ascended  a  flight  of  narrow  steps  and 
came  into  a  passage  with  a  row  of  strong  doors  on  the  left 
hand.  Motioning  them  to  remain  where  they  were,  the  turn- 
key knocked  at  one  of  these  with  his  bunch  of  keys.  The 
two  attendants,  after  a  little  whispering,  came  out  into  the 
passage,  stretching  themselves  as  if  glad  01  the  temporary 
relief,  and  motioned  the  visitors  to  follow  the  jailer  into  the 
cell.     They  did  so. 

The  condemned  criminal  was  seated  on  his  bed,  rocking 


4io  OLIVER     TWIST. 

himself  from  side  to  side,  with  a  countenance  more  like  that 
of  a  snared  beast  than  the  face  of  a  man.  His  mind  was 
evidently  wandering  to  his  old  life,  for  he  continued  to  mut- 
ter, without  appearing  conscious  of  their  presence,  otherwise 
than  as  a  part  of  his  vision  ; 

"  Good  boy,  Charley — well  done,"  he  mumbled.  "  Oliver 
too,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Oliver  too — quite  the  gentleman  now — 
quite  the — take  that  boy  away  to  bed  !  " 

The  jailer  took  the  disengaged  hand  of  Oliver,  and, 
whispering  him  not  to  be  alarmed,  looked  on  without 
speaking. 

"  Take  him  away  to  bed,"  cried  Fagin.  "  Do  you  hear 
me,  some  of  you  ?  He  has  been  the — the — somehow  the 
cause  of  all  this.  It's  worth  the  money  to  bring  him  up  to  it 
— Bolter's  throat,  Bill ;  never  mind  the  girl — Bolter's  throat, 
as  deep  as  you  can  cut.     Saw  his  head  off  !  " 

"  Fagin,"  said  the  jailer. 

"  That's  me  !  "  cried  the  Jew,  falling  instantly  into  the  at- 
titude of  listening  he  had  assumed  upon  his  trial.  "  An  old 
man,  my  lord  ;  a  very  old,  old  man  !  " 

"  Here,"  said  the  turnkey,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  breast 
to  keep  him  down,  "  here's  somebody  wants  to  see  you,  to 
ask  you  some  questions,  I  suppose.  Fagin,  Fagin  !  Are  you 
a  man  ?  " 

"  I  sha'n't  be  one  long,"  he  replied,  looking  up  with  a  face 
retaining  no  human  expression  but  rage  and  terror.  "Strike 
them  all  dead  !     What  right  have  they  to  butcher  me  ? " 

As  he  spoke  he  caught  sight  of  Oliver  and  Mr.  Brownlow. 
Shrinking  to  the  furthest  corner  of  the  seat,  he  demanded  to 
know  what  they  wanted  there. 

"  Steady,"  said  the  turnkey,  still  holding  him  down. 
"  Now,  sir,  tell  him  what  you  want.  Quick,  if  you  please, 
for  he  grows  worse  as  the  time  gets  on." 

"  You  have  some  papers,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  advancing, 
"  which  were  placed  in  your  hands,  for  better  security,  by  a 
man  called  Monks." 

"  It's  all  a  lie  together,"  replied  Fagin.  "  I  haven't  one — 
not  one." 

"  For  the  love  of  God,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  solemnly, 
"do  not  say  that  now,  upon  the  very  verge  of  death  ;  but 
tell  me  where  they  are.  You  know  that  Sikes  is  dead,  that 
Monks  has  confessed,  that  there  is  no  hope  of  any  further 
gain.     Where  are  those  papers  ?  " 


OLIVER  TWIST.  411 

"  Oliver,"  cried  Fagin,  beckoning  to  him.  "  Here,  here  ! 
Let  me  whisper  to  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid,'.'  said  Oliver,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  re- 
linquished Mr.  Brownlow's  hand. 

"The  papers,"  said  Fagin,  drawing  Oliver  toward  him, 
"  are  in  a  canvas  bag,  in  a  hole  a  little  way  up  the  chimney 
in  the  top  front- room.  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  my  dear.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  Oliver.  Let  me  say  a  prayer.  Do  ! 
Let  me  say  one  prayer.  Say  only  one  upon  your  knees 
with  me,  and  we  will  talk  till  morning." 

"  Outside,  outside,"  replied  Fagin,  pushing  the  boy  before 
him  toward  the  door,  and  looking  vacantly  over  his  head. 
"  Say  I've  gone  to  sleep — they'll  believe  you.  You  can  get 
me  out,  if  you  take  me  so.     Now  then,  now  then  !  " 

"  Oh  !  God  forgive  this  wretched  man  !  "  cried  the  boy, 
with  a  burst  of  tears. 

"That's  right,  that's  right,"  said  Fagin.  "That'll  help  us 
on.  This  door  first.  If  I  shake  and  tremble  as  we  pass  the 
gallows,  don't  you  mind,  but  hurry  on.     Now,  now,  now  !  " 

"  Have  you  nothing  else  to  ask  him,  sir  ? "  inquired  the 
turnkey. 

"  No  other  question,"  replied  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  If  I  hoped 
we  could  recall  him  to  a  sense  of  his  position — " 

"  Nothing  will  do  that,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  shaking  his 
head.     "You  had  better  leave  him." 

The  door  of  the  cell  opened,  and  the  attendants  returned. 

"  Press  on,  press  on  !  "  cried  Fagin.  "  Softly,  but  not  so 
slow.     Faster,  faster  !  " 

The  men  laid  hands  upon  him,  and,  disengaging  Oliver 
from  his  grasp,  held  him  back.  He  struggled  with  the 
power  of  desperation  for  an  instant  ;  and  then  sent  up  cry 
upon  cry  that  penetrated  even  those  massive  walls,  and  rang 
in  their  ears  until  they  reached  the  open  yard. 

It  was  some  time  before  they  left  the  prison.  Oliver 
nearly  swooned  after  this  frightful  scene,  and  was  so  weak 
that  for  an  hour  or  more  he  had  not  strength  to  walk. 

Day  was  dawning  when  they  again  emerged.  A  great 
multitude  had  already  assembled  ;  the  windows  were  filled 
with  people,  smoking  and  playing  cards  to  beguile  the  time  ; 
the  crowd  were  pushing,  quarreling,  joking.  Every  thing  told 
of  life  and  animation  but  one  dark  cluster  of  objects  in  the 
center  of  all — the  black  stage,  the  cross-beam,  the  rope,  and 
all  the  hideous  apparatus  of  death. 


412  OLIVER  TWIST. 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

AND    LAST. 

The  fortunes  of  those  who  have  figured  in  this  tale  are 
nearly  closed.  The  little  that  remains  to  their  historian  to 
relate  is  told  in  few  and  simple  words. 

Before  three  months  had  passed  Rose  Fleming  and  Harry 
Maylie  were  married  in  the  village  church  which  was  hence- 
forth to  be  the  scene  of  the  young  clergyman's  labors  ;  on 
the  same  day  they  entered  into  possession  of  their  new  and 
happy  home. 

Mrs.  Maylie  took  up  her  abode  with  her  son  and  daughter- 
in-law,  to  enjoy,  during  the  tranquil  remainder  of  her  days, 
the  greatest  felicity  that  age  and  worth  can  know — the  con- 
templation of  the  happiness  of  those  on  whom  the  warmest 
affections  and  tenderest  cares  of  a  well-spent  life  have  been 
unceasingly  bestowed. 

It  appeared,  on  full  and  careful  investigation,  that  if  the 
wreck  of  property  remaining  in  the  custody  of  Monks  (which 
had  never  prospered  either  in  his  hands  or  in  those  of  his 
mother)  were  equally  divided  between  himself  and  Oliver, 
it  would  yield  to  each  a  little  more  than  three  thousand 
pounds.  By  the  provisions  of  his  father's  will  Oliver  would 
have  been  entitled  to  the  whole  ;  but  Mr.  Brownlow,  unwill- 
ing to  deprive  the  eldest  son  of  the  opportunity  of  retrieving 
his  former  vices  and  pursuing  an  honest  career,  proposed 
this  mode  of  distribution,  to  which  his  young  charge  joy- 
fully acceded. 

Monks,  still  bearing  that  assumed  name,  retired  with  his 
portion  to  a  distant  part  of  the  New  World,  where,  having 
quickly  squandered  it,  he  once  more  fell  into  his  old  courses, 
and,  after  undergoing  a  long  confinement  for  some  fresh  act 
of  fraud  and  knavery,  at  length  sunk  under  an  attack  of  bis 
old  disorder,  and  died  in  prison.  As  far  from  home  died  the 
chief  remaining  members  of  his  friend  Fagin's  gang. 

Mr.  Brownlow  adopted  Oliver  as  his  son.  Removing  with 
him  and  the  old  housekeeper  to  within  a  mile  of  the  parson- 
age-house, where  his  dear  friends  resided,  he  gratified  the 
only  remaining  wish  of  Oliver's  warm  and  earnest  heart,  and 
thus  linked  together  a  little  society  whose  condition  ap- 
proached as  nearly  to  one  of  perfect  happiness  as  can  ever 
be  known  in  this  changing  world. 


OLIVER  TWIST. 


4i3 


Soon  after  the  marriage  of  the  young  people  the  worthy 
doctor  returned  to  Chertsey,  where,  bereft  of  the  presence 
of  his  old  friends,  he  would  have  been  discontented,  if  his 
temperament  had  admitted  of  such  a  feeling,  and  would 
have  turned  quite  peevish,  if  he  had  known  how.  For  two 
or  three  months  he  contented  himself  with  hinting  that  he 
feared  the  air  began  to  disagree  with  him  ;  then,  finding  that 
the  place  really  no  longer  was,  to  him,  what  it  had  been,  he 
settled  his  business  on  his  assistant,  took  a  bachelor's  cottage 
outside  the  village  of  which  his  young  friend  was  pastor,  and 
instantaneously  recovered.  Here  he  took  to  gardening,  plant- 
ing, fishing,  carpentering,  and  various  other  pursuits  of  a 
similar  kind — all  undertaken  with  his  characteristic  im- 
petuosity. In  each  and  all  he  has  since  become  famous 
throughout  the  neighborhood  as  a  most  profound  authority. 

Before  his  removal  he  had  managed  to  contract  a  strong 
friendship  for  Mr.  Grimvvig,  which  that  eccentric  gentleman 
cordially  reciprocated.  He  is  accordingly  visited  by  Mr. 
Grimwig  a  great  many  times  in  the  course  of  the  year.  On 
all  such  occasions  Mr.  Grimwig  plants,  fishes,  and  carpenters 
with  great  ardor  ;  doing  every  thing  in  a  very  singular  and 
unprecedented  manner,  but  always  maintaining,  with  his 
favorite  asseveration,  that  his  mode  is  the  right  one.  On 
Sundays  he  never  fails  to  criticise  the  sermon  to  the  young 
clergyman's  face,  always  informing  Mr.  Losberne,  in  strict 
confidence,  afterward,  that  he  considers  it  an  excellent  per. 
formance,  but  deems  it  as  well  not  to  say  so.  It  is  a  stand- 
ing and  very  favorite  joke  for  Mr.  Brownlow  to  rally  him  oik 
his  old  prophecy  concerning  Oliver,  and  to  remind  him  ot 
the  night  on  which  they  sat  with  the  watch  between  them, 
waiting  his  return  ;  but  Mr.  Grimwig  contends  that  he  was 
right  in  the  main,  and,  in  proof  thereof,  remarks  that  Olivei 
did  not  come  back  after  all ;  which  always  calls  forth  a  laugh 
on  his  side,  and  increases  his  good-humor. 

Mr.  Noah  Claypole,  receiving  a  free  pardon  from  the 
Crown  in  consequence  of  being  admitted  approver  against 
Fagin,  and  considering  his  profession  not  altogether  as  safe 
an  one  as  he  could  wish,  was,  for  some  little  time,  at  a  loss 
for  the  means  of  a  livelihood  not  burdened  with  too  much 
work.  After  some  consideration,  he  went  into  business  as  an 
Informer,  in  which  calling  he  realizes  a  genteel  subsistence. 
His  plan  is,  to  walk  out  once  a  week  during  church-time, 
attended  by  Charlotte,  in  respectable  attire.     The  lady  faints 


4i4  OLIVER  TWIST. 

away  at  the  doors  of  charitable  publicans,  and  the  gentle- 
man being  accommodated  with  three  penny-worth  of  brandy 
to  restore  her,  lays  an  information  next  day,  and  pockets  half 
the  penalty.  Sometimes  Mr.  Claypole  faints  himself,  but  the 
result  is  the  same. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bumble,  deprived  of  their  situations,  were 
gradually  reduced  to  great  indigence  and  misery,  and  finally 
became  paupers  in  that  very  same  work-house  in  which  they 
had  once  lorded  it  over  others.  Mr.  Bumble  has  been  heard 
to  say  that,  in  this  reverse  and  degradation,  he  has  not  even 
spirits  to  be  thankful  for  being  separated  from  his  wife. 

As  to  Mr.  Giles  and  Brittles,  they  still  remain  in  their 
old  posts,  although  the  former  is  bald  and  the  last- 
named  boy  quite  gray.  They  sleep  at  the  parsonage, 
but  divide  their  attentions  so  equally  among  its 
inmates,  and  Oliver  and  Mr.  Brownlow,  and  Mr. 
Losberne,  that  to  this  day  the  villagers  have  never  been 
able  to  discover  to  which  establishment  they  properly 
belong. 

Master  Charles  Bates,  appalled  by  Sikes's  crime,  fell  into  a 
train  of  reflection  whether  an  honest  life,  was  not,  after  all, 
the  best.  Arriving  at  the  conclusion,  that  it  certainly  was, 
he  turned  his  back  upon  the  scenes  of  the  past,  resolved  to 
amend  it  in  some  new  sphere  of  action.  He  struggled  hard, 
and  suffered  much,  for  some  time,  but,  having  a  contented 
disposition  and  a  good  purpose,  succeeded  in  the  end  ;  and, 
from  being  a  farmer's  drudge,  and  a  carrier's  lad,  he  is  now 
the  merriest  young  grazier  in  all  Northamptonshire. 

And  now  the  hand  that  traces  these  words  falters,  as  it 
approaches  the  conclusion  of  its  task,  and  would  weave,  for 
a  little  longer  space,  the  thread  of  these  adventures. 

I  would  fain' linger  yet  with  a  few  of  those  among  whom 
I  have  so  long  moved,  and  share  their  happiness  by  endeav- 
oring to  depict  it.  I  would  show  Rose  Maylie  in  all  the 
bloom  and  grace  of  early  womanhood,  shedding  on  her  se- 
cluded path  in  life  soft  and  gentle  light,  that  fell  on  all  who 
trod  it  with  her,  and  shone  into  their  hearts.  I  would  paint 
her  thejife  and  joy  of  the  fireside  circle  and  the  lively  sum- 
mer group  ;  I  would  follow  her  through  the  sultry  fields  at 
noon,  and  hear  the  low  tones  of  her  sweet  voice  in  the 
moonlit  evening  walk;  I  would  watch  her  in  all  her  good- 
ness and  charity  abroad,  and  the  smiling,  untiring  discharge 
of  her   domestic  duties  at  home;    I  would  paint  her  and 


OLIVER  TWIST.  415 

her  dead  sister's  child  happy  in  their  love  for  one  another, 
and  passing  whole  hours  together  in  picturing  the  friends 
whom  they  had  so  sadly  lost;  I  would  summon  before  me, 
once  again,  those  joyous  little  faces  that  clustered  round  her 
knee,  and  listen  to  their  merry  prattle  ;  I  would  recall  the 
tones  of  that  clear  laugh,  and  conjure  up  the  sympathizing 
tear  that  glistened  in  the  soft  blue  eye.  These,  and  a  thou- 
sand looks  and  smiles,  and  turns  of  thought  and  speech — I 
would  fain  recall  them  every  one. 

How  Mr.  Brownlow  went  on,  from  day  to  day,  filling  the 
mind  of  his  adopted  child  with  stores  of  knowledge,  and  be- 
coming attached  to  him  more  and  more  as  his  nature  devel- 
oped itself  and  showed  the  thriving  seeds  of  all  he  wished 
him  to  become — how  he  traced  in  him  new  traits  of  his  early 
friend,  that  awakened  in  his  own  bosom  old  remembrances, 
melancholy  and  yet  sweet  and  soothing — how  the  two 
orphans,  tried  by  adversity,  remembered  its  lessons  in  mercy 
to  others,  and  mutual  love,  and  fervent  thanks  to  Him  who 
had  protected  and  preserved  them — these  are  all  matters 
which  need  not  to  be  told.  I  have  said  that  they  were  truly 
happy  ;  and  without  strong  affection  and  humanity  of  heart, 
and  gratitude  to  that  Being  whose  code  is  Mercy,  and  whose 
great  attribute  is  benevolence  to  all  things  that  breathe,  hap- 
piness can  never  be  attained. 

Within  the  altar  of  the  old  village  church  there  stands  a 
white  marble  tablet,  which  bears  as  yet  but  one  word — 
"  Agnes."  There  is  no  coffin  in  that  tomb;  and  may  it  be 
many,  many  years,  before  another  name  is  placed  above  it  ! 
But  if  the  spirits  of  the  Dead  ever  come  back  to  earth  to 
visit  spots  hallowed  by  the  love — the  love  beyond  the  grave 
— of  those  whom  they  knew  in  life,  I  believe  that  the  shade 
of  Agnes  sometimes  hovers  round  that  solemn  nook.  I  be- 
lieve it  none  the  less  because  that  nook  is  in  a  church,  and 
she  was  weak  and  erring. 


[the  end.] 


PICTURES    FROM    ITALY. 


THE    READER'S    PASSPORT. 


If  the  readers  of  this  volume  will  be  so  kind  as  to  take 
their  credentials  for  the  different  places  which  are  the  sub- 
ject of  its  author's  reminiscences,  from  the  author  himself, 
perhaps  they  may  visit  them,  in  fancy,  the  more  agreeably, 
and  with  a  better  understanding  of  what  they  are  to  expect. 

Many  books  have  been  written  upon  Italy,  affording  many 
means  of  studying  the  history  of  that  interesting  country, 
and  the  innumerable  associations  intwined  about  it.„  I 
make  but  little  reference  to  that  stock  of  information  ;  not 
at  all  regarding  it  as  a  necessary  consequence  of  my  having 
had  recourse  to  the  store-house  for  my  own  benefit,  that  1 
should  reproduce  its  easily  accessible  contents  before  the 
eyes  of  my  readers. 

Neither  will  there  be  found,  in  these  pages,  any  grave  ex- 
amination into  the  government  or  misgovernment  of  any  por- 
tion of  the  country.  No  visitor  of  that  beautiful  land  can 
fail  to  have  a  strong  conviction  on  the  subject  ;  but  as  I 
chose  when  residing  there,  a  foreigner,  to  abstain  from  the 
discussion  of  any  such  questions  with  any  order  of  Italians, 
so  I  would  rather  not  enter  on  the  inquiry  now.  During 
my  twelve  months'  occupation  of  a  house  at 'Genoa,  I  never 
found  that  authorities  constitutionally  jealous  were  distrust- 
ful of  me  ;  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  give  them  occasion 
to  regret  their  free  courtesy,  either  to  myself  or  any  of  my 
countrymen. 

There  is,  probably,  not  a  famous  picture  or  statue  in 
all  Italy,  but  could  be  easily  buried  under  a  mountain  of 
printed  paper  devoted  to  dissertations  on  it.  I  do  not, 
therefore,  though  an  earnest  admirer  of  painting  and  sculp- 


2  PICTURES  FROM  ITALY.. 

ture,  expatiate  at  any  length  on  famous  pictures  and 
statues. 

This  book  is  a  series  of  faint  reflections — mere  shadows 
in  the  water — of  places  to  which  the  imaginations  of  most 
people  are  attracted  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  on  which 
mine  had  dwelt  for  years,  and  which  have  some  interest  for 
all.  The  greater  part  of  the  descriptions  were  written  on 
the  spot,  and  sent  home,  from  time  to  time,  in  private  letters. 
I  do  not  mention  the  circumstance  as  an  excuse  for  any  de- 
fects they  may  present,  for  it  would  be  none  ;  but  as  a  guar- 
antee to  the  reader  that  they  were  at  least  penned  in  the 
fullness  of  the  subject,  and  with  the  liveliest  impressions  of 
novelty  and  freshness. 

If  they  have  ever  a  fanciful  and  idle  air,  perhaps  the 
reader  will  suppose  them  written  in  the  shade  of  a  sunny 
day,  in  the  midst  of  the  objects  of  which  they  treat,  and 
will  like  them  none  the  worse  for  having  such  influences  of 
the  country  upon  them. 

I  hope  I  am  not  likely  to  be  misunderstood  by  professors 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  on  account  of  any  thing  con- 
tained in  these  pages.  I  have  done  my  best,  in  one  of  my 
former  productions,  to  do  justice  to  them  ;  and  I  trust,  in 
this,  they  will  do  justice  to  me.  When  I  mention  any  exhi- 
bition that  impressed  me  as  absurd  or  disagreeable,  I  do  not 
seek  to  connect  it,  or  recognize  it  as  necessarily  connected 
with,  any  essentials  of  their  creed.  When  I  treat  of  the 
ceremonies  of  the  Holy  Week,  I  merely  treat  of  their  effect, 
and  do  not  challenge  the  good  and  learned  Dr.  Wiseman's 
interpretation  of  their  meaning.  When  I  hint  a  dislike  of 
nunneries  for  young  girls  who  abjure  the  world  before  they 
have  ever  proved  or  known  it  ;  or  doubt  the  ex-officio  sanc- 
tity of  all  priests  and  friars  ;  I  do  no  more  than  many 
conscientious  Catholics  both  abroad  and  at  home. 

I  have  likened  these  pictures  to  shadows  in  the  water,  and 
would  fain  hope  that  I  have,  nowhere,  stirred  the  water  so 
roughly,  as  to  mar  the  shadows.  I  could  never  desire  to  be  on 
better  terms  with  all  my  friends  than  now,  when  distant  moun- 
tains rise  once  more  in  my  path.  For  I  need  not  hesitate 
to  avow,  that,  bent  on  correcting  a  brief  mistake  I  made,  not 
long  ago,  in  disturbing  the  old  relations  between  myself  and 
my  readers,  and  departing  for  a  moment  from  my  old  pursuits, 
I  am  about  to  resume  them,  joyfully,  in  Switzerland  ;  where 
during  another  year  of  absence,  I  can  at  once  work  out  the 
themes  I  have  now  in  my  mind,  without  interruption  ;  and 


PICTURES  FROM  ITALY.  3 

while  I  keep  my  English  audience  within  speaking  distance, 
extend  my  knowledge  of  a  noble  country,  inexpressibly  at- 
tractive to  me.* 

This  book  is  made  as  accessible  as  possible,  because  it 
would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  if  I  could  hope,  through  its 
means,  to  compare  impressions  with  some  among  the  multi- 
tudes who  will  hereafter  visit  the  scenes  described  with  in- 
terest and  delight. 

And  I  have  only  now,  in  passport  wise,  to  sketch  my 
reader's  portrait,  which  I  hope  may  be  thus  supposititiously 
traced  for  either  sex  : 

Complexion Fair. 

Eyes Very  cheerful. 

Nose Not  supercilious. 

Mouth Smiling. 

Visage Beaming. 

General  Expression   .....  Extremely  agreeable. 


GOING  THROUGH    FRANCE. 

On  a  fine  Sunday  morning  in  the  midsummer  time  and 
weather  of  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-four,  it  was,  my  good 
friend,  when — don't  be  alarmed  ;  not  when  two  travelers 
might  have  been  observed  slowly  making  their  way  over  that 
picturesque  and  broken  ground  by  which  the  first  chapter  of 
a  middle-age  novel  is  usually  attained — but  when  an  English 
traveling-carriage  of  considerable  proportions,  fresh  from 
the  shady  halls  of  the  Pantechnicon  near  Belgrave  Square, 
London,  was  observed  (by  a  very  small  French  soldier  ;  for 
I  saw  him  look  at  it)  to  issue  from  the  gate  of  the  Hotel 
Meurice,  in  the  Rue  Rivoli,  at  Paris. 

I  am  no  more  bound  to  explain  why  the  English  family 
traveling  by  this  carriage,  inside  and  out,  should  be  starting 
for  Italy  on  a  Sunday  morning,  of  all  good  days  in  the  week, 
than  I  am  to  assign  a  reason  for  all  the  little  men  in  France 
being  soldiers,  and  all  the  big  men  being  postilions  ;  which 
is  the  invariable  rule.  But  they  have  some  sort  of  reason 
for  what  they  did,  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  their  reason  for 
being  there  at  all,  was,  as  you  know,  that  they  were  going  to 

*  This  was  written  in  1846* 


4  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

room  of  state,  in  short,  could  be  any  thing  but  a  pleasant 
fiction  and  cheerful  jest  of  the  captain's,  invented  and  put 
in  practice  for  the  better  relish  and  enjoyment  of  the  real 
state-room  presently  to  be  disclosed — these  were  truths  which 
I  really  could  not,  for  the  moment,  bring  my  mind  at  all  to 
bear  upon  or  comprehend.  And  I  sat  down  upon  a  kind  of 
horsehair  slab,  or  perch,  of  which  there  were  two  within  ; 
and  looked,  without  any  expression  of  countenance  what- 
ever, at  some  friends  who  had  come  on  board  with  us,  and 
who  were  crushing  their  faces  into  all  manner  of  shapes  by 
endeavoring  to  squeeze  them  through  the  small  doorway. 

We  had  experienced  a  pretty  smart  shock  before  coming 
below,  which,  but  that  we  were  the  most  sanguine  people 
living,  might  have  prepared  us  for  the  worst.  The  imagina- 
tive artist  to  whom  I  have  already  made  allusion,  has  de- 
picted in  the  same  great  work,  a  chamber  of  almost  inter- 
minable perspective,  furnished,  as  Mr.  Robins  would  say,  in  a 
style  of  more  than  Eastern  splendor,  and  filled  (but  not  in- 
conveniently so)  with  groups  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  in  the 
very  highest  state  of  enjoyment  and  vivacity.  Before  de- 
scending into  the  bowels  of  the  ship,  we  had  passed  from 
the  deck  into  a  long  narrow  apartment,  not  unlike  a  gigan- 
tic hearse  with  windows  in  the  sides  ;  having  at  the  upper 
,end  a  melancholy  stove,  at  which  three  or  four  chilly  stew- 
ards were  warming  their  hands  ;  while  on  either  side,  ex- 
tending down  its  whole  dreary  length,  was  a  long,  long 
table,  over  each  of  which  a  rack,  fixed  to  the  low  roof,  and 
stuck  full  of  drinking-glasses  and  cruet-stands,  hinted  dis- 
mally at  rolling  seas  and  heavy  weather.  I  had  not  at  that 
time  seen  the  ideal  presentiment  of  this  chamber  which  has 
since  gratified  me  so  much,  but  I  observed  that  one  of  our 
friends  who  had  made  the  arrangements  for  our  voyage, 
turned  pale  on  entering,  retreated  on  the  friend  behind  him, 
smote  his  forehead  involuntarily,  and  said  below  his  breath, 
"  Impossible  !  it  can  not  be  !  "  or  words  to  that  effect.  He 
recovered  himself,  however,  by  a  great  effort,  and  after  a  pre- 
paratory cough  or  two,  cried,  with  a  ghastly  smile  which  is 
still  before  me,  looking  at  the  same  time  round  the  walls. 
"  Ha  !  the  breakfast-room,  steward — eh  ? "  we  all  foresaw 
what  the  answer  must  be  ;  we  knew  the  agony  he  suffered. 
He  had  often  spoke  of  the  saloon  ;  had  taken  in  and  lived 
upon  the  pictorial  idea  ;  had  usually  given  us  to  understand, 
at  home,  that  to  form  a  just  conception  of  it,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  multiply  the  size  and  furniture  of  an  ordinary 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  5 

drawing-room  by  seven,  and  then  fail  short  of  the  reality. 
When  the  man  in  reply  avowed  the  truth  ;  the  blunt,  remorse- 
less, naked  truth  :  "  This  is  the  saloon,  sir  " — he  actually 
reeled  beneath  the  blow. 

In  persons  who  were  so  soon  to  part,  and  interpose  be- 
tween their  else  daily  communication  the  formidable  barrier 
of  many  thousand  miles  of  stormy  space,  and  who  were  for 
that  reason  anxious  to  cast  no  other  cloud,  not  even  the  pass- 
ing shadow  of  a  moment's  disappointment  or  discomfiture, 
upon  the  short  interval  of  happy  companionship  that  yet  re- 
mained to  them — in  persons  so  situated,  the  natural  transition 
from  these  first  surprises  was  obviously  into  peals  of  hearty 
laughter,  and  I  can  report  that  I,  for  one,  being  still  seated 
upon  the  slab  or  perch  before-mentioned,  roared  outright  until 
the  vessel  rang  again.  Thus,  in  less  than  two  minutes  after 
coming  upon  it  for  the  first  time,  we  all  by  common  consent 
agreed  that  this  state-room  was  the  pleasantest  and  most 
facetious  and  capital  contrivance  possible  ;  and  that  to  have 
had  it  one  inch  larger,  would  have  been  quite  a  disagreeable 
and  deplorable  state  of  things.  And  with  this  ;  and  with 
showing  how — by  very  nearly  closing  the  door,  and  twining 
in  and  out  like  serpents,  and  by  counting  the  little  washing 
slab  as  standing-room — we  could  manage  to  insinuate  four 
people  into  it,  all  at  one  time  ;  and  entreating  each  other  to 
observe  how  very  airy  it  was  (in  dock),  and  how  there  was  a 
beautiful  port-hole  which  could  be  kept  open  all  day  (weather 
permitting),  and  how  there  was  quite  a  large  bull's-eye  just 
over  the  looking-glass  which  would  render  shaving  a  perfectly 
easy  and  delightful  process  (when  the  ship  didn't  roll  too 
much)  ;  we  arrived,  at  last,  at  the  unanimous  conclusion  that 
it  was  rather  spacious  than  otherwise  ;  though  I  do  verily 
believe  that,  deducting  the  two  berths,  one  above  the  other, 
than  which  nothing  smaller  for  sleeping  in  was  ever  made 
except  coffins,  it  was  no  bigger  than  one  of  those  hackney 
cabriolets  which  have  the  door  behind,  and  shoot  their  fares 
out,  like  sacks  of  coal,  upon  the  pavement. 

Having  settled  this  point  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  all 
parties  concerned  and  unconcerned,  we  sat  down  round  the 
fire  in  the  ladies'  cabin — just  to  try  the  effect.  It  was  rather 
dark,  certainly  ;  but  somebody  said,  "  of  course  it  would  be 
light,  at  sea,"  a  proposition  to  which  we  all  assented  ;  echoing 
"  of  course,  of  course  ;  "  though  it  would  be  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult to  say  why  we  thought  so.  I  remember,  too,  when  we 
had  discovered  and  exhausted  another  topic  of  consolation  in 


6  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  circumstance  of  this  ladies'  cabin  adjoining  our  state-room 
and  the  consequently  immense  feasibility  of  sitting  there  at  all 
times  and  seasons,  and  had  fallen  into  a  momentary  silence, 
leaning  our  faces  on  our  hands  and  looking  at  the  fire,  one  of 
our  party  said,  with  the  solemn  air  of  a  man  who  had  made  a 
discovery,  "What  a  relish  mulled  claret  will  have  down 
here  !  "  which  appeared  to  strike  us  all  most  forcibly  ;  as 
though  there  were  something  spicy  and  high-flavored  in 
cabins,  which  essentially  improved  that  composition,  and 
rendered  it  quite  incapable  of  perfection  anywhere  else. 

There  was  a  stewardess,  too,  actively  engaged  in  produc- 
ing clean  sheets  and  table-cloths  from  the  very  entrails  of  the 
sofas,  and  from  unexpected  lockers,  of  such  artful  mechanism, 
that  it  made  one's  head  ache  to  see  them  opened  one  after 
another,  and  rendered  it  quite  a  distracting  circumstance  to 
follow  her  proceedings,  and  to  find  that  every  nook  and  corner 
and  individual  piece  of  furniture  was  something  else  besides 
what  it  pretended  to  be,  and  was  a  mere  trap  and  deception 
and  place  of  secret  stowage,  whose  ostensible  purpose  was  its 
least  useful  one. 

God  bless  that  stewardess  for  her  piously  fraudulent  ac- 
count of  January  voyages  !  God  bless  her  for  her  clear  recol- 
lection of  the  champion  passage  of  last  year,  when  nobody 
was  ill,  and  every  body  dancing  from  morning  to  night,  and  it 
was  "  a  run  "  of  twelve  days,  and  apiece  of  the  purest  frolic, 
and  delight,  and  jollity  !  All  happiness  be  with  her  for  her 
bright  face  and  her  pleasant  Scotch  tongue,  which  had  sounds 
of  old  home  in  it  for  my  fellow-traveler  ;  and  for  her  predic- 
tions of  fair  winds  and  fine  weather  (all  wrong,  or  I  shouldn't 
be  half  so  fond  of  her)  ;  and  for  the  ten  thousand  small  frag- 
ments of  genuine  womanly  tact,  by  which,  without  piecing 
them  elaborately  together,  and  patching  them  up  into  shape 
and  form  and  case  and  pointed  application,  she  nevertheless 
did  plainly  show  that  all  young  mothers  on  one  side  of  the 
Atlantic  were  near  and  close  at  hand  to  their  little  children 
left  upon  the  other  ;  and  that  what  seemed  to  the  uninitiated 
a  serious  journey,  was,  to  those  who  were  in  the  secret,  a 
mere  frolic,  to  be  sung  about  and  whistled  at  !  Light  be  her 
heart,  and  gay  her  merry  eyes  for  years  ! 

The  state-room  had  grown  pretty  fast ;  but  by  this  time  it 
had  expanded  into  something  quite  bulky,  and  almost 
boasted  a  bay-window  to  view  the  sea  from.  So  we  went 
upon  deck  again  in  high  spirits  ;  and  there,  everything  was 
in  such  a  state  of  bustle  and  active  preparation,  that  the 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  7 

blood  quickened  its  pace,  and  whirled  through  one's  veins 
on  that  clear  frosty  morning  with  involuntary  mirthfulness. 
For  every  gallant  ship  was  riding  slowly  up  and  down,  and 
every  little  boat  was  splashing  noisily  in  the  water  ;  and 
knots  of  people  stood  upon  the  wharf,  gazing  with  a  kind  of 
"  dread  delight"  on  the  far-famed  fast  American  steamer  ; 
and  one  party  of  men  were  "  taking  in  the  milk,"  or,  in 
other  words,  getting  the  cow  on  board  ;  and  another  were 
filling  the  icehouse  to  the  very  throat  with  fresh  provisions  ; 
with  butchers'-meat  and  garden-stuff,  pale  sucking-pigs, 
calves'  heads  in  scores,  beef,  veal,  and  pork,  and  poultry 
out  of  all  proportion  ;  and  others  were  coiling  ropes  and  busy 
with  oakum  yarns  ;  and  others  were  lowering  heavy  packages 
into  the  hold  ;  and  the  purser's  head  was  barely  visible  as  it 
loomed  in  a  state  of  exquisite  perplexity  from  the  midst  of  a 
vast  pile  of  passengers'  luggage  ;  and  there  seemed  to  be 
nothing  going  on  anywhere,  or  uppermost  in  the  mind  of 
any  body,  but  preparations  for  this  mighty  voyage.  This, 
with  the  bright  cold  sun,  the  bracing  air,  the  crisply-curling 
water,  the  thin  white  crust  of  morning  ice  upon  the  decks 
which  crackled  with  a  sharp  and  cheerful  sound  beneath  the 
lightest  tread,  was  irresistible.  And  when,  again  upon  the 
shore,  we  turned  and  saw  from  the  vessel's  mast  her  name 
signaled  in  flags  of  joyous  colors,  and  fluttering  by  their 
side  the  beautiful  American  banner  with  its  stars  and  stripes 
— the  long  three  thousand  mi]es  and  more,  and,  longer  still, 
the  six  whole  months  of  absence,  so  dwindled  and  faded, 
that  the  ship  had  gone  out  and  come  home  again,  and  it  was 
broad  spring  already  in  the  Coburg  Dock  at  Liverpool. 

I  have  not  inquired  among  my  medical  acquaintance, 
whether  turtle,  and  cold  punch,  with  hock,  champagne,  and 
claret,  and  all  the  slight  et  cetera  usually  included  in  an 
unlimited  order  for  a  good  dinner — especially  when  it  is  left 
to  the  liberal  construction  of  my  faultless  friend,  Mr.  Radley, 
of  the  Adelphi  Hotel — are  peculiarly  calculated  to  suffer  a 
sea-change  ;  or  whether  a  plain  mutton-chop,  and  a  glass  or 
two  of  sherry,  would  be  less  likely  of  conversion  into  for- 
eign and  disconcerting  material.  My  own  opinion  is,  that 
whether  one  is  discreet  or  indiscreet  in  these  particulars,  on 
the  eve  of  a  sea-voyage,  is  a  matter  of  little  consequence, 
and  that,  to  use  a  common  phrase,  "  it  comes  to  very  much 
the  same  thing  in  the  end."  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  know  that 
the  dinner  of  that  day  was  undeniably  perfect  ;  that  it  com- 
prehended all  these  items,  and  a  great  many  more  ;  and 


8  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

that  we  all  did  ample  justice  to  it.  And  I  know  too,  that, 
bating  a  certain  tacit  avoidance  of  any  allusion  to  to-mor- 
row ;  such  as  may  be  supposed  to  prevail  between  delicate- 
minded  turnkeys,  and  a  sensititive  prisoner  who  is  to  be 
hanged  next  morning  ;  we  got  on  very  well,  and,  all  things 
considered,  were  merry  enough. 

When  the  morning — the  morning — came,  and  we  met  at 
breakfast,  it  was  curious  to  see  how  eager  we  all  were  to 
prevent  a  moment's  pause  in  the  conversation,  and  how  as- 
toundingly  gay  every  body  was  :  the  forced  spirits  of  each 
member  of  the  little  party  having  as  much  likeness  to  his 
natural  mirth,  as  hot-house  peas  at  five  guineas  the  quart, 
resemble  in  flavor  the  growth  of  the  dews,  and  air,  and  rain 
of  heaven.  But  as  one  o'clock,  the  hour  for  going  aboard, 
drew  near,  this  volubility  dwindled  away  by  little  and  little, 
despite  the  most  persevering  efforts  to  the  contrary,  until  at 
last,  the  matter  being  now  quite  desperate,  we  threw  off  all 
disguise;  openly  speculated  upon  where  we  should  be  by  this 
time  to-morrow,  this  time  next  day,  and  so  forth  ;  and 
intrusted  a  vast  number  of  messages  to  those  who  intended 
returning  to  town  that  night,  which  were  to  be  delivered  at 
home  and  elsewhere  without  fail,  within  the  very  shortest 
possible  space  of  time  after  the  arrival  of  the  railway  train 
at  Euston  Squar^.  And  commissions  and  remembrances 
do  so  crowd  upon  one  at  such  a  time,  that  we  were  still 
busied  with  this  employment  when  we  found  ourselves  fused, 
as  it  were,  into  a  dense  conglomeration  of  passengers  and 
passengers'  friends  and  passengers'  luggage,  all  jumbled 
together  on  the  deck  of  a  small  steamboat,  and  panting  and 
snorting  off  to  the  packet,  which  had  worked  out  of  dock 
yesterday  afternoon  and  was  now  lying  at  her  moorings  in 
the  river. 

And  there  she  is  !  All  eyes  are  turned  to  where  she  lies, 
dimly  discernible  through  the  gathering  fog  of  the  early  win- 
ter afternoon  ;  every  finger  is  pointed  in  the  same  direction  ; 
and  murmurs  of  interest  and  admiration — as  How  beautiful 
she  looks  !  "  "  How  trim  she  is  !  " — are  heard  on  every  side. 
Even  the  lazy  gentleman  with  his  hat  on  one  side  and  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  who  has  dispensed  so  much  consola- 
tion by  inquiring  with  a  yawn  of  another  gentleman  whether 
he  is  '  going  across  " — as  if  it  were  a  ferry — even  he  con- 
descends to  look  that  way,  and  nod  his  head,  as  who  should 
say,  "  No  mistake  about  that;  "  and  not  even  the  sage  Lord 
Burleigh,  in   his  nod,  included  half  so  much  as  this  lazy 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  9 

gentleman  of  might  who  has  made  the  passage  (as  every- 
body on  board  has  found  out  already  ;  it's  impossible  to  say 
how)  thirteen  times  without  a  single  accident !  There  is 
another  passenger  very  much  wrapped-up,  who  has  been 
frowned  down  by  the  rest,  and  morally  trampled  upon  and 
crushed,  for  presuming  to  inquire  with  a  timid  interest  how 
long  it  is  since  the  poor  President  went  down.  He  is  stand- 
ing close  to  the  lazy  gentleman,  and  says  with  a  faint  smile 
that  he  believes  she  is  a  very  strong  ship  ;  to  which  the  lazy 
gentleman,  looking  first  in  his  questioner's  eye  and  then 
very  hard  in  the  wind's,  answers  unexpectedly  and  omin- 
ously, that  she  need  be.  Upon  this  the  lazy  gentleman  falls 
very  low  in  the  popular  estimation,  and  the  passengers,  with 
looks  of  defiance,  whisper  to  each  other  that  he  is  an  ass,  and 
an  impostor,  and  clearly  don't  know  any  thing  at  all  about  it. 
But  we  are  made  fast  alongside  the  packet,  whose  huge 
red  funnel  is  smoking  bravely,  giving  rich  promise  of  serious 
intentions.  Packing-cases,  portmanteaus,  carpet-bags,  and 
boxes,  are  already  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  hauled  on 
board  with  breathless  rapidity.  The  officers,  smartly  dressed, 
are  at  the  gangway  handing  the  passengers  up  the  side,  and 
hurrying  the  men.  In  five  minutes'  time,  the  little  steamer 
is  utterly  deserted,  and  the  packet  is  beset  and  overrun  by 
its  late  freight,  who  instantly  pervade  the  whole  ship,  and  are 
to  be  met  with  by  the  dozen  in  every  nook  and  corner ; 
swarming  down  below  with  their  own  baggage,  and  stum- 
bling over  other  people's  ;  disposing  themselves  comfortably 
in  wrong  cabins,  and  creating  a  most  horrible  confusion  by 
having  to  turn  out  again  ;  madly  bent  upon  opening  locked 
doors,  and  on  forcing  a  passage  into  all  kinds  of  out-of-the- 
way  places,  where  there  is  no  thoroughfare  ;  sending  wild 
stewards,  with  elfin  hair,  to  and  fro  upon  the  breezy  decks  on 
unintelligible  errands,  impossible  of  execution  ;  and  in  short, 
creating  the  most  extraordinary  and  bewildering  tumult.  In 
the  midst  of  all  this,  the  lazy  gentleman,  who  seems  to  have 
no  luggage  of  any  kind — not  so  much  as  a  friend,  even — 
lounges  up  and  down  the  hurricane  deck,  coolly  puffing  a 
cigar  ;  and,  as  this  unconcerned  demeanor  again  exalts  him 
in  the  opinion  of  those  who  have  leisure  to  observe  his 
proceedings,  every  time  he  looks  up  at  the  masts,  or  down 
at  the  decks,  or  over  the  side,  they  look  there  too,  as  won- 
dering whether  he  sees  any  thing  wrong  anywhere,  and 
hoping  that,  in  case  he  should,  he  will  have  the  goodness  to 
mention  it. 


io  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

What  have  we  here  ?  The  captain's  boat !  and  yonder 
the  captain  himself.  Now,  by  all  our  hopes  and  wishes,  the 
very  man  he  ought  to  be  !  A  well-made,  tight-built,  dapper 
little  fellow,  with  a  ruddy  face,  which  is  a  letter  of  invitation 
to  shake  him  by  both  hands  at  once,  and  with  a  clear,  blue, 
honest  eye,  that  it  does  one  good  to  see  one's  sparkling  image 
in.  4'  Ring  the  bell !  "  "  Ding,  ding,  ding  !  "  The  very 
bell  is  in  a  hurry.  "  Now  for  the  shore — who's  for  the 
shore  ?  "  "  These  gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  to  say."  They  are 
away,  and  never  said,  Good-by.  Ah  !  now  they  wave  it 
from  the  little  boat.  "  Good  -  by  !  Good  -  by  !  "  Three 
cheers  from  them  ;  three  more  from  us  ;  three  more  from 
them,  and  they  are  gone. 

To  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro  again  a  hundred  times ! 
This  waiting  for  the  latest  mail-bags  is  worse  than  all.  If 
we  could  have  gone  off  in  the  midst  of  that  last  burst,  we 
should  have  started  triumphantly,  but  to  lie  here  two  hours 
and  more  in  the  damp  fog,  neither  staying  at  home  nor 
going  abroad,  is  letting  one  gradually  down  into  the  very 
depths  of  dullness  and  low  spirits.  A  speck  in  the  mist,  at 
last !  That's  something.  It  is  the  boat  we  wait  for  !  That's 
more  to  the  purpose.  The  captain  appears  on  the  paddle- 
box  with  his  speaking-trumpet  ;  the  officers  take  their  sta- 
tions ;  all  hands  are  on  the  alert ;  the  flagging  hopes  of  the 
passengers  revive  ;  the  cooks  pause  in  their  savory  work,  and 
look  out  with  faces  full  of  interest.  The  boat  comes  along- 
side ;  the  bags  are  dragged  in  anyhow,  and  flung  down  for 
the  moment  anywhere.  Three  cheers  more,  and  as  the  first 
one  rings  upon  our  ears,  the  vessel  throbs  like  a  strong  giant 
that  has  just  received  the  breath  of  life  ;  the  two  great  wheels 
turn  fiercely  round  for  the  first  time,  and  the  noble  ship,  with 
wind  and  tide  astern,  breaks  proudly  through  the  lashed 
and  foaming  water 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    PASSAGE     OUT. 

We  all  dined  together  that  day  ;  and  a  rather  formidable 
party  we  were  ;  no  fewer  than  eighty-six  strong.  The  vessel 
being  pretty  deep  in  the  water,  with  all  her  coals  on  board 
and  so  many  passengers,  and  the  weather  being  calm  and 
quiet,  there  was  but  little  motion  ;  so  that  before  the  dinner 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  M 

was  half  over,  even  those  passengers  who  were  most  dis- 
trustful of  themselves  plucked  up  amazingly  ;  and  those 
who  in  the  morning  had  returned  to  the  universal  question, 
"Are  you  a  good  sailor?"  a  very  decided  negative,  now 
either  parried  the  inquiry  with  the  evasive  reply,  Oh  [ 
I  suppose  I'm  no  worse  than  any  body  else  ; "  or,  reckless 
of  all  moral  obligations,  answered  boldly  u  Yes  :  "  and  with 
some  irritation  too,  as  though  they  would  add,  "  I  should 
like  to  know  what  you  see  in  mey  sir,  particularly,  to  justify 
suspicion  ! " 

Notwithstanding  this  high  tone  of  courage  and  confi- 
dence, I  could  not  but  observe  that  very  few  remained  long 
over  their  wine  ;  and  that  every  body  had  an  unusual  love 
of  the  open  air  ;  and  that  the  favorite  and  most  coveted 
seats  were  invariably  those  nearest  to  the  door.  The  tea- 
table,  too,  was  by  no  means  as  well  attended  as  the  dinner- 
table  ;  and  there  was  less  whist-playing  than  might  have 
been  expected.  Still,  with  the  exception  of  one  lady,  who 
had  retired  with  some  precipitation  at  dinner-time,  imme- 
diately after  being  assisted  to  the  finest  cut  of  a  very  yellow 
boiled  leg  of  mutton  with  very  green  capers,  there  were  no 
invalids  as  yet ;  and  walking,  and  smoking,  and  drinking  of 
brandy-and-water  (but  always  in  the  open  air),  went  on 
with  unabated  spirit,  until  eleven  o'clock  or  thereabouts, 
when  "  turning  in  " — no  sailor  of  seven  hours'  experience 
talks  of  going  to  bed — became  the  order  of  the  night.  The 
perpetual  tramp  of  boot-heels  on  the  deck  gave  place  to 
a  heavy  silence,  and  the  whole  human  freight  was  stowed 
away  below,  excepting  a  very  few  stragglers,  like  myself,  who 
were  probably,  like  me,  afraid  to  go  there. 

To  one  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes,  this  is  a  very  strik- 
ing time  on  shipboard.  Afterward,  and  when  its  novelty 
had  long  worn  off,  it  never  ceased  to  have  a  peculiar  interest 
and  charm  for  me.  The  gloom  through  which  the  great  black 
mass  holds  its  direct  and  certain  course  ;  the  rushing  water, 
plainly  heard,  but  dimly  seen  ;  the  broad,  white,  glistening 
track,  that  follows  in  the  vessel's  wake  ;  the  men  on  the 
look-out  forward,  who  would  be  scarcely  visible  against  the 
dark  sky,  but  for  their  blotting  out  some  score  of  glistening 
stars  ;  the  helmsman  at  the  wheel,  with  the  illuminated  card 
before  him,  shining,  a  speck  of  light  amid  the  darkness, 
like  something  sentient  and  of  Divine  intelligence  ;  the 
melancholy  sighing  of  the  wind  through  block  and  rope 
and  chain  ;  the  gleaming  forth  of  light  from  every  crevice, 


i2  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

nook,  and  tiny  piece  of  glass  about  the  decks,  as  though  the 
ship  were  filled  with  lire  in  hiding,  ready  to  burst  through 
any  outlet,  wild  with  its  resistless  power  of  death  and  ruin. 
At  first,  too,  and  even  when  the  hour,  and  all  the  objects  it 
exalts,  have  come  to  be  familiar,  it  is  difficult,  alone  and 
thoughtful,  to  hold  them  to  their  proper  shapes  and  forms. 
They  change  with  the  wandering  fancy  ;  assume  the  sem- 
blance of  things  left  far  away  ;  put  on  the  well-remembered 
aspect  of  favorite  places  dearly  loved  ;  and  even  people 
them  with  shadows.  Streets,  houses,  rooms  ;  figures  so  like 
their  usual  occupants,  that  they  have  startled  me  by  their 
reality,  which  far  exceeded,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  all  power  of 
mine  to  conjure  up  the  absent  :  have,  many  and  many  a 
time,  at  such  an  hour,  grown  suddenly  out  of  objects  with 
whose  real  look,  and  use,  and  purpose,  I  was  as  well  ac- 
quainted as  with  my  own  two  hands. 

My  own  two  hands,  and  feet  likewise,  being  very  cold, 
however,  on  this  particular  occasion,  I  crept  below  at  mid- 
night. It  was  not  exactly  comfortable  below.  It  was 
decidedly  close  ;  and  it  was  impossible  to  be  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  that  extraordinary  compound  of  strange 
smells,  which  is  to  be  found  nowhere  but  on  board  ship,  and 
which  is  such  a  subtle  perfume  that  it  seems  to  enter  at 
every  pore  of  the  skin,  and  whisper  of  the  hold.  Two  pas- 
sengers' wives  (one  of  them  my  own)  lay  already  in  silent 
agonies  on  the  sofa ;  and  one  lady's  maid  (my  lady's)  was  a 
mere  bundle  on  the  floor,  execrating  her  destiny,  and  pound- 
ing her  curl-papers  among  the  stray  boxes.  Every  thing 
sloped  the  wrong  way  ;  which  in  itself  was  an  aggravation 
scarcely  to  be  borne.  I  had  left  the  door  open,  a  moment 
before,  in  the  bosom  of  a  gentle  declivity,  and,  when  I 
turned  to  shut  it,  it  was  on  the  summit  of  a  lofty  eminence. 
Now  every  plank  and  timber  cracked,  as  if  the  ship  were 
made  of  wicker-work  ;  and  now  crackled,  like  an  enormous 
fire  of  the  driest  possible  twigs.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  bed  ;  so  I  went  to  bed. 

It  was  pretty  much  the  same  for  the  next  two  days,  with  a 
tolerably  fair  wind  and  dry  weather.  I  read  in  bed  (but  to 
this  hour  I  don't  know  what)  a  good  deal ;  and  reeled  on 
deck  a  little  ;  drank  cold  brandy-and- water  with  an  unspeak- 
able disgust,  and  ate  hard  biscuit  perseveringly  ;  not  ill,  but 
going  to  be. 

It  is  the  third  morning.  I  am  awakened  out  of  my  sleep 
1?y  a  dismal   shriek   from   my  wife,  who  demands   to  know 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  13 

whether  there's  any  danger.  I  rouse  myself  and  look  out  of 
bed.  The  water-jug  is  plunging  and  leaping  like  a  lively 
dolphin  ;  all  the  small  articles  are  afloat,  except  my  shoes, 
which  are  stranded  on  a  carpet-bag,  high  and  dry,  like  a 
couple  of  coal-barges.  Suddenly  I  see  them  spring  into  the 
air,  and  behold  the  looking-glass,  which  is  nailed  to  the 
wall,  sticking  fast  upon  the  ceiling.  At  the  same  time  the 
door  entirely  disappears,  and  a  new  one  is  opened  in  the 
floor.  Then  I  begin  t&  comprehend  that  the  stateroom  is 
standing  on  its  head. 

Before  it  is  possible  to  make  any  arrangement  at  all  com- 
patible with  this  novel  state  of  things,  the  ship  rights.  Be- 
fore one  can  say  "  Thank  heaven  !  she  wrongs  again.  Be- 
fore one  can  cry  she  is  wrong,  she  seems  to  have  started 
forward,  and  to  be  a  creature  actually  running  of  its  own 
accord,  with  broken  knees  and  failing  legs,  through  every 
variety  of  hole  and  pitfall,  and  stumbling  constantly.  Be- 
fore one  can  so  much  as  wonder,  she  takes  a  high  leap 
into  the  air.  Before  she  has  well  done  that,  she  takes  a  deep 
dive  into  the  water.  Before  she  has  gained  the  surface,  she 
throws  a  somersault.  The  instant  she  is  on  her  legs,  she 
rushes  backward.  And  so  she  goes  on  staggering,  heaving, 
wrestling,  leaping,  diving,  jumping,  pitching,  throbbing,  roll- 
ing and  rocking  :  and  going  through  all  these  movements, 
sometimes  by  turns,  and  sometimes  altogether  :  until  one 
feels  disposed  to  roar  for  mercy. 

A  steward  passes.  "  Steward  !  "— "  Sir  ?  "— "  What  is  the 
matter  ?  what  do  you  call  this  ?  " — "  Rather  a  heavy  sea  on, 
sir,  and  a  head-wind." 

A  head-wind  !  Imagine  a  human  face  upon  the  vessel's 
prow,  with  fifteen  thousand  Sampsons  in  one  bent  upon  driv- 
ing her  back,  and  hitting  her  exactly  between  the  eyes  when- 
ever she  attempts  to  advance  an  inch.  Imagine  the  ship  her- 
self, with  every  pulse  and  artery  of  her  huge  body  swollen 
and  bursting  under  this  maltreatment,  sworn  to  go  on  or 
die.  Imagine  the  wind  howling,  the  sea  roaring,  the  rain 
beating  ;  all  in  furious  array  against  her.  Picture  the  sky 
both  dark  and  wild,  and  the  clouds,  in  fearful  sympathy 
with  the  waves,  making  another  ocean  in  the  air.  Add 
to  all  this,  the  clattering  on  deck  and  down  below  ;  the 
tread  of  hurried  feet ;  the  loud,  hoarse  shouts  of  seamen  ; 
the  gurgling  in  and  out  of  water  through  the  scuppers  ; 
with,  every  now  and  then,  the  striking  of  a  heavy  sea  upon 
the  planks  above,  with  the  deep,  dead,  heavy  sound  of  thun- 


i4  AMERICAN   NOTES. 

der  heard  within  a  vault  ; — and  there  is  the  head-wind  of 
that  January  morning. 

I  say  nothing  of  what  may  be  called  the  domestic  noises 
of  the  ship  :  such  as  the  breaking  of  glass  and  crockery,  the 
tumbling  down  of  stewards,  the  gambols,  overhead,  of  loose 
casks  and  truant  dozens  of  bottled  porter,  and  the  very  re- 
markable and  far  from  exhilarating  sounds  raised  in  their 
various  state-rooms  by  the  seventy  passengers  who  were  too 
ill  to  get  up  to  breakfast.  I  say  nothing  of  them  :  for  al- 
though I  lay  listening  to  this  concert  for  three  or  four  days, 
I  don't  think  I  heard  it  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  minute, 
at  the  expiration  of  which  term,  I  lay  down  again,  exces- 
sively sea-sick. 

Not  sea-sick,  be  it  understood,  in  the  ordinary  accepta- 
tion of  the  term  :  1  wish  I  had  been  :  but  in  a  form  which  I 
have  never  seen  or  heard  described,  though  I  have  no  doubt 
it  is  very  common.  I  lay  there,  all  the  day  long,  quite 
coolly  and  contentedly  ;  with  no  sense  of  weariness,  with  no 
desire  to  get  up,  or  get  better,  or  take  the  air  ;  with  no  cu- 
riosity, or  care,  or  regret,  of  any  sort  or  degree,  saving  that 
I  think  I  can  remember,  in  this  universal  indifference,  hav- 
ing a  kind  of  lazy  joy — of  fiendish  delight,  if  any  thing  so 
lethargic  can  be  dignified  with  the  title— in  the  fact  of  my 
wife  being  too  ill  to  talk  to  me.  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  il- 
lustrate my  state  of  mind  by  such  an  example,  I  should 
say  that  I  was  exactly  in  the  condition  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Willet,  after  the  incursion  of  the  rioters  into  his  bar  at 
Chigwell.  Nothing  would  have  surprised  me.  If,  in  the 
momentary  illumination  of  any  ray  of  intelligence  that  may 
have  come  upon  me  in  the  way  of  thoughts  of  home,  a  gob- 
lin postman,  with  a  scarlet  coat  and  bell,  had  come  into  that 
little  kennel  before  me,  broad  awake  in  broad  day,  and, 
apologizing  for  being  damp  through  walking  in  the  sea,  had 
handed  me  a  letter  directed  to  myself,  in  familiar  characters, 
I  am  certain  I  should  not  have  felt  one  atom  of  astonish- 
ment :  I  should  have  been  perfectly  satisfied.  If  Neptune 
himself  had  walked  in,  with  a  toasted  shark  on  his  trident,  I 
should  have  looked  upon  the  event  as  one  of  the  very  com- 
monest every-day  occurrences. 

Once — once — I  found  myself  on  deck.  I  don't  know 
how  I  got  there,  or  what  possessed  me  to  go  there,  but  there 
I  was  ;  and  completely  dressed  too,  with  a  huge  pea-coat 
on,  and  a  pair  of  boots  such  as  no  man  in  his  senses  could 
ever  have  got  into.     I  found  myself  standing,  when  a  gleam 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  15 

of  consciousness  came  upon  me,  holding  on  to  something. 
I  don't  know  what.  I  think  it  was  the  boatswain  ;  or  it  may 
have  been  the  pump  ;  or  possibly  the  cow.  I  can't  say  how 
long  I  had  been  there  ;  whether  a  day  or  a  minute.  I  rec- 
ollect trying  to  think  about  something  (about  any  thing  in 
the  whole  wide  world,  I  was  not  particular)  without  the 
smallest  effect.  I  could  not  even  make  out  which  was  the 
sea,  and  which  the  sky,  for  the  horizon  seemed  drunk,  and 
was  flying  wildly  about  in  all  directions.  Even  in  that  inca- 
pable state,  however,  I  recognized  the  lazy  gentleman  stand- 
ing before  me,  nautically  clad  in  a  suit  of  shaggy  blue,  with 
an  oilskin  hat.  But  I  was  too  imbecile,  although  I  knew  it 
to  be  he,  to  separate  him  from  his  dress  ;  and  tried  to  call 
him,  I  remember,  Pilot.  After  another  interval  of  total  un- 
consciousness, I  found  he  had  gone,  and  recognized  another 
figure  in  its  place.  It  seemed  to  wave  and  fluctuate  before 
me  as  though  I  saw  it  reflected  in  an  unsteady  looking-glass  ; 
but  I  knew  it  for  the  captain.  And  such  was  the  cheerful 
influence  of  his  face,  that  I  tried  to  smile  ;  yes,  even  then 
I  tried  to  smile.  I  saw  by  his  gestures  that  he  addressed 
me  ;  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  make  out  that  he 
remonstrated  against  my  standing  up  to  my  knees  in  water 
as  I  was  ;  of  course  I  don't  know  why.  I  tried  to  thank 
him,  but  couldn't.  I  could  only  point  to  my  boots — or 
wherever  I  supposed  my  boots  to  be — and  say  in  a  plaintive 
voice,  "  Cork  soles  :  "  at  the  same  time  endeavoring,  I  am 
told,  to  sit  down  in  the  pool.  Finding  that  I  was  quite  in- 
sensible, and  for  the  time  a  maniac,  he  humanely  conducted 
me  below. 

There  I  remained  until  I  got  better  ;  suffering,  whenever 
I  was  recommended  to  eat  any  thing,  an  amount  of  anguish 
only  second  to  that  which  is  said  to  be  endured  by  the  ap- 
parently drowned,  in  the  process  of  restoration  to  life.  One 
gentleman  on  board  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  me  from 
a  mutual  friend  in  London.  He  sent  it  below  with  his  card, 
on  the  morning  of  the  head-wind  ;  and  I  was  long  troubled 
with  the  ide?  that  he  might  be  up,  and  well,  and  a  hundred 
times  a  day  expecting  me  to  call  upon  him  in  the  saloon.  I 
imagined  him  one  of  those  cast-iron  images — I  will  not  call 
them  men — who  ask,  with  red  faces,  and  lusty  voices,  what 
sea-sickness  means,  and  whether  it  is  really  as  bad  as  it  is 
represented  to  be.  This  was  very  torturing  indeed  ;  and  I 
don't  think  I  ever  felt  such  perfect  gratification  and  grati- 
tude of  heart,  as  I  did  when  I  heard  from  the  ship's  doctor 


16  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

that  he  had  been  obliged  to  put  a  large  mustard  poultice  on 
this  very  gentleman's  stomach.  I  date  my  recovery  from 
the  receipt  of  that  intelligence. 

It  was  materially  assisted  though,  I  have  no  doubt,  by  a 
heavy  gale  of  wind,  which  came  slowly  up  at  sunset,  when 
we  were  about  ten  days  out,  and  raged  with  gradually  in- 
creasing fury  until  morning,  saving  that  it  lulled  for  an  hour 
a  little  before  midnight.  There  was  something  in  the  un- 
natural repose  of  that  hour,  and  in  the  after  gathering  of  the 
storm,  so  inconceivably  awful  and  tremendous,  that  its 
bursting  into  full  violence  was  almost  a  relief. 

The  laboring  of  the  ship  in  the  troubled  sea  on  this  night 
I  shall  never  forget.  "  Will  it  ever  be  worse  than  this  ?  " 
was  a  question  I  had  often  heard  asked,  when  every  thing 
was  sliding  and  bumping  about,  and  when  it  certainly  did 
seem  difficult  to  comprehend  the  possibility  of  any  thing 
afloat  being  more  disturbed  without  toppling  over  and  going 
down.  But  what  the  agitation  of  a  steam  vessel  is,  on  a 
bad  winter's  night  in  the  wild  Atlantic,  it  is  impossible  for 
the  most  vivid  imagination  to  conceive.  To  say  that  she  is 
flung  down  on  her  side  in  the  waves,  with  her  masts  dipping 
into  them,  and  that,  springing  up  again,  she  rolls  over  on 
the  other  side,  until  a  heavy  sea  strikes  her  with  the  noise 
of  a  hundred  great  guns  and  hurls  her  back — that  she  stops, 
and  staggers,  and  shivers,  as  though  stunned,  and  then,  with 
a  violent  throbbing  at  her  heart,  darts  onward  like  a  mon- 
ster goaded  into  madness,  to  be  beaten  down,  and  battered, 
and  crushed,  and  leaped  on  by  the  angry  sea — that  thun- 
der, lightning,  hail,  and  rain,  and  wind,  are  all  in  fierce  con- 
tention for  the  mastery — that  every  plank  has  its  groan, 
every  nail  its  shriek,  and  every  drop  of  water  in  the  great 
ocean  its  howling  voice — is  nothing.  To  say  that  it  is  all 
grand,  and  all  appalling  and  horrible  in  the  last  degree,  is 
nothing.  Words  can  not  express  it.  Thoughts  can  not  con- 
vey it.  Only  a  dream  can  call  it  up  again,  in  all  its  fury, 
rage,  and  passion. 

And  yet,  in  the  very  midst  of  these  terrors,  I  was  placed 
in  a  situation  so  exquisitely  ridiculous,  that  even  then  I  had 
as  strong  a  sense  of  its  absurdity  as  I  have  now,  and  could 
no  more  help  laughing  than  I  can  at  any  other  comical  inci- 
dent, happening  under  circumstances  the  most  favorable  to 
its  enjoyment.  About  midnight  we  shipped  a  sea,  which 
forced  its  way  through  the  skylights,  burst  open  the  doors 
above,  and  came  raging  and  roaring  down  into  the  ladies' 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  i7 

cabin,  to  the  unspeakable  consternation  of  my  wife  and  a 
little  Scotch  lady — who,  by  the  way,  had  previously  sent  a 
message  to  the  captain  by  the  stewardess,  requesting  him, 
with  her  compliments,  to  have  a  steel  conductor  immediately 
attached  to  the  top  of  every  mast,  and  to  the  chimney,  in 
order  that  the  ship  may  not  be  struck  by  lightning.  They 
and  the  handmaid  before-mentioned,  being  in  such  ecstasies 
of  fear  that  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  them,  I  natur- 
ally bethought  myself  of  some  restorative  or  comfortable 
cordial ;  and  nothing  better  occurring  to  me,  at  the  moment, 
than  hot  brandy-and-water,  I  procured  a  tumbler  full  with- 
out delay.  It  being  impossible  to  stand  or  sit  without  hold- 
ing on,  they  were  all  heaped  together  in  one  corner  of  a  long 
sofa — a  fixture  extending  entirely  across  the  cabin — where 
they  clung  to  each  other  in  momentary  expectation  of  being 
drowned.  When  I  approached  this  place  with  my  specific, 
and  was  about  to  administer  it  with  many  consolatory  ex- 
pressions to  the  nearest  sufferer,  what  was  my  dismay  to  see 
them  all  roll  slowly  down  to  the  other  end.  And  when  I 
staggered  to  that  end,  and  held  out  the  glass  once  more, 
how  immensely  baffled  were  my  good  intentions  by  the  ship 
giving  another  lurch,  and  then  all  rolling  back  again  ! 
I  suppose  I  dodged  them  up  and  down  this  sofa  for  at 
least  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  without  reaching  them  once  ; 
and  by  the  time  I  did  catch  them,  the  brandy-and-water 
was  diminished  by  constant  spilling  to  a  teaspoonful.  To 
complete  the  group,  it  is  necessary  to  recognize  in  this  dis- 
concerted dodger,  an  individual  very  pale  from  sea-sickness, 
who  had  shaved  his  beard  and  brushed  his  hair,  last,  at  Liv- 
erpool :  and  whose  only  article  of  dress  (linen  not  included) 
were  a  pair  of  dreadnaught  trowsers  ;  a  blue  jacket,  for- 
merly admired  upon  the  Thames  at  Richmond  ;  no  stock- 
ings ;  and  one  slipper. 

Of  the  outrageous  antics  performed  by  that  ship  next 
morning  ;  which  made  bed  a  practical  joke,  and  getting  up, 
by  any  process  short  of  falling  out,  an  impossibility  ;  I  say 
nothing.  But  any  thing  like  the  utter  dreariness  and  deso- 
lation that  met  my  eyes  when  I  literally  "  tumbled  up"  on 
deck  at  noon,  I  never  saw.  Ocean  and  sky  were  all  of  one 
dull,  heavy,  uniform,  lead  color.  There  was  no  extent  of 
prospect  even  over  the  dreary  waste  that  lay  around  us,  for 
the  sea  ran  high,  and  the  horizon  encompassed  us  like  a 
large  black  hoop.  Viewed  from  the  air  or  some  tall  bluff 
on  shore,  it  would  have  been  imposing  and  stupendous,  no 


18  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

doubt ;  but  seen  from  the  wet  and  rolling  decks,  it  only  im- 
pressed one  giddily  and  painfully.  In  the  gale  of  last  night 
the  life-boat  had  been  crushed  by  one  blow  of  the  sea  like  a 
walnut-shell  ;  and  there  it  hung  dangling  in  the  air — a  mere 
fagot  of  crazy  boards.  The  planking  of  the  paddle-boxes 
had  been  torn  sheer  away.  The  wheels  were  exposed  and 
bare  ;  and  they  whirled  and  dashed  their  spray  about  the 
decks  at  random.  Chimney,  white  with  crusted  salt ;  top- 
masts struck  ;  storm-sails  set  ;  rigging  all  knotted,  tangled, 
wet,  and  drooping  :  a  gloomier  picture  it  would  be  hard  to 
look  upon. 

I  was  now  comfortably  established  by  courtesy  in  the 
ladies'  cabin,  where,  beside  ourselves,  there  were  only  four 
other  passengers.  First,  the  little  Scotch  lady  before  men- 
tioned, on  her  way  to  join  her  husband  at  New  York,  who 
had  settled  there  three  years  before.  Secondly  and  thirdly, 
an  honest  young  Yorkshireman  connected  with  some  Amer- 
ican house  ;  domiciled  in  that  same  city,  and  carrying 
thither  his  beautiful  young  wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  mar- 
ried but  a  fortnight,  and  who  was  the  fairest  specimen  of 
a  comely  English  country  girl  I  have  ever  seen.  Fourthly, 
fifthly,  and  lastly,  another  couple ;  newly  married,  too,  if 
one  might  judge  from  the  endearments  they  frequently  in- 
terchanged :  of  whom  I  know  no  more  than  that  they  were 
rather  a  mysterious,  run-away  kind  of  couple  ;  that  the  lady 
had  great  personal  attractions  also  ;  and  that  the  gentleman 
carried  more  guns  with  him  than  Robinson  Crusoe,  wore  a 
shooting-coat,  and  had  two  great  dogs  on  board.  On  fur- 
ther consideration,  I  remember  that  he  tried  hot  roast  pig 
and  bottled  ale  as  a  cure  for  sea-sickness  ;  and  that  he  took 
these  remedies  (usually  in  bed)  day  after  day,  with  astonish- 
ing perseverance.  I  may  add,  for  the  information  of  the 
curious,  that  they  decidedly  failed. 

The  weather  continuing  obstinately  and  almost  unprece- 
dentedly  bad,  we  usually  straggled  into  this  cabin,  more  or 
less  faint  and  miserable,  about  an  hour  before  noon,  and  lay 
down  on  the  sofa  to  recover  ;  during  which  interval  the 
captain  would  look  in  to  communicate  the  state  of  the 
wind,  the  moral  certainty  of  its  changing  to-morrow  (the 
weather  is  always  going  to  improve  to-morrow,  at  sea),  the 
vessel's  rate  of  sailing,  and  so  forth.  Observations  there 
were  none  to  tell  us  of,  for  there  was  no  sun  to  take  them 
by.  But  a  description  of  one  day  will  serve  for  all  the  rest 
Here  it  is  : 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  19 

The  captain  being  gone,  we  compose  ourselves  to  read,  if 
the  place  be  light  enough  ;  and  if  not,  we  doze  and  talk, 
alternately.  At  one,  a  bell  rings,  and  the  stewardess  comes 
down  with  a  steaming  dish  of  baked  potatoes,  and  another 
of  roasted  apples  ;  and  plates  of  pig's  face,  cold  ham,  salt 
beef  ;  or  perhaps  a  smoking  mess  of  rare  hot  collops.  We 
fall  to  upon  these  dainties  :  eat  as  much  as  we  can  (we  have 
great  appetites  now)  ;  and  are  as  long  as  possible  about  it. 
If  the  fire  will  burn  (it  will  sometimes)  we  are  pretty  cheer- 
ful. If  it  won't,  we  all  remark  to  each  other  that  it  is  very 
cold,  rub  our  hands,  cover  ourselves  with  coats  and  cloaks, 
and  lie  down  again  to  doze,  talk,  and  read  (provided  as 
aforesaid),  until  dinner-time.  At  five  another  bell  rings, 
and  the  stewardess  reappears  with  another  dish  of  potatoes 
— boiled  this  time — and  store  of  hot  meats  of  various  kinds  : 
not  forgetting  the  roast  pig,  to  be  taken  medicinally.  We  sit 
down  at  table  again  (rather  more  cheerfully  than  before)  ; 
prolong  the  meal  with  a  rather  moldy  desert  of  apples, 
grapes  and  oranges  ;  and  drink  our  wine  and  brandy-and- 
water.  The  bottles  and  glasses  are  still  upon  the  table,  and 
the  oranges  and  so  forth  are  rolling  about  according  to  their 
fancy  and  the  ship's  way,  when  the  doctor  comes  down,  by 
special  nightly  invitation,  to  join  our  evening  rubber  ;  imme- 
diately on  whose  arrival  we  make  a  party  at  whist,  and  as  it 
is  a  rough  night  and  the  cards  will  not  lie  on  the  cloth,  we 
put  the  tricks  in  our  pockets  as  we  take  them.  At  whist  we 
remain  with  exemplary  gravity  (deducting  a  short  time  for 
tea  and  toast)  until  eleven  o'clock,  or  thereabouts  ;  when 
the  captain  comes  down  again,  in  a  sou'wester  hat  tied  under 
his  chin,  and  a  pilot-coat  ;  making  the  ground  wet  where 
he  stands.  By  this  time  the  card-playing  is  over,  and  the 
bottles  and  glasses  are  again  upon  the  table  ;  and  after  an 
hour's  pleasant  conversation  about  the  ship,  the  passengers, 
and  things  in  general,  the  captain  (who  never  goes  to  bed, 
and  is  never  out  of  humor)  turns  up  his  coat  collar  for  the 
deck  again  ;  shakes  hands  all  around  ;  and  goes  laughing 
out  into  the  weather  as  merrily  as  to  a  birthday  party. 

As  to  daily  news,  there  is  no  dearth  of  that  commodity. 
This  passenger  is  reported  to  have  lost  fourteen  pounds  at 
vingt-et  un  in  the  saloon  yesterday  ;  and  that  passenger 
drinks  his  bottle  of  champagne  every  day,  and  how  he  does 
it  (being  only  a  clerk),  nobody  knows.  The  head  engineer 
has  distinctly  said  that  there  never  was  such  times — meaning 
weather,  and  four  good  hands  are  ill,  and  have  given  in, 


2o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

dead  beat.  Several  berths  are  full  of  water,  and  all  the 
cabins  are  leaky.  The  ship's  cook,  secretly  swigging  dam- 
aged whisky,  has  been  found  drunk  ;  and  has  been  played 
upon  by  the  fire-engine  until  quite  sober.  All  the  stewards 
have  fallen  down  stairs  at  various  dinner-times,  and  go 
about  with  plasters  in  various  places.  The  baker  is  ill,  and 
so  is  the  pastry-cook.  A  new  man,  horribly  indisposed,  has 
been  required  to  fill  the  place  of  the  latter  officer  ;  and  has 
been  propped  and  jammed  up  with  empty  casks  in  a  little 
house  upon  deck,  and  commanded  to  roll  out  pie-crust, 
which  he  protests  (being  highly  bilious)  it  is  death  to  him 
to  look  at.  News  !  A  dozen  murders  on  shore  would  lack 
the  interest  of  these  slight  incidents  at  sea. 

Divided  between  our  rubber  and  such  topics  as  these,  we 
were  running  (as  we  thought)  into  Halifax  Harbor  on  the 
fifteenth  night,  with  little  wind  and  a  bright  moon — indeed, 
we  had  made  the  light  at  its  outer  entrance,  and  put  the 
pilot  in  charge — when  suddenly  the  ship  struck  upon  a  bank 
of  mud.  An  immediate  rush  on  deck  took  place,  of  course  ; 
the  sides  were  crowded  in  an  instant  ;  and  for  a  few  min- 
utes we  were  in  as  lively  a  state  of  confusion  as  the  greatest 
lover  of  disorder  would  desire  to  see.  The  passengers,  and 
guns,  and  water-casks,  and  other  heavy  matters,  being  all 
huddled  together  aft,  however,  to  lighten  her  in  the  head,  she 
was  soon  got  off  ;  and  after  some  driving  on  toward  an 
uncomfortable  line  of  objects  (whose  vicinity  had  been 
announced  very  early  in  the  disaster  by  a  loud  cry  of 
"  Breakers  ahead  !  ")  and  much  backing  of  paddles,  and 
heaving  of  the  lead  into  a  constantly  decreasing  depth  of 
water,  we  dropped  anchor  in  a  strangely  outlandish  nook 
which  nobody  on  board  could  recognize,  although  there  was 
land  all  about  us,  and  so  close  that  we  could  plainly  see  the 
waving  branches  of  the  trees. 

It  was  strange  enough,  in  the  silence  of  midnight,  and  the 
dead  stillness  that  seemed  to  be  created  by  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  stoppage  of  the  engine  which  had  been  clank- 
ing and  blasting  in  our  ears  incessantly  for  so  many  days,  to 
watch  the  look  of  blank  astonishment  expressed  in  every 
face  :  beginning  with  the  officers,  tracing  it  through  all  the 
passengers,  and  descending  to  the  very  stokers  and  furnace- 
men,  who  emerged  from  below,  one  by  one,  and  clustered 
together  in  a  smoky  group  about  the  hatchway  of  the  engine- 
room,  comparing  notes  in  whispers.  After  throwing  up  a 
few  rockets  and  firing  signal  guns  in  the  hope  of  being  hailed 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  21 

from  the  land,  or  at  least  of  seeing  a  light — but  without  any 
other  sight  or  sound  presenting  itself — it  was  determined  to 
send  a  boat  on  shore.  It  was  amusing  to  observe  how  very- 
kind  some  of  the  passengers  were,  in  volunteering  to  go 
ashore  in  this  same  boat :  for  the  general  good,  of  course  : 
not  by  any  means  because  they  thought  the  ship  in  an  un- 
safe position,  or  contemplated  the  possibility  of  her  heeling 
over  in  case  the  tide  were  running  out.  Nor  was  it  less 
amusing  to  remark  how  desperately  unpopular  the  poor  pilot 
became  in  one  short  minute.  He  had  had  his  passage  out 
from  Liverpool,  and  during  the  whole  voyage  had  been 
quite  a  notorious  character,  as  a  teller  of  anecdotes  and 
cracker  of  jokes.  Yet  here  were  the  very  men  who  had 
laughed  the  loudest  at  his  jests,  now  flourishing  their  fists  in 
his  face,  loading  him  with  imprecations,  and  defying  him  to 
his  teeth  as  a  villain. 

The  boat  soon  shoved  off  with  a  lantern  and  sundry  blue 
lights  on  board  ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  returned  ;  the 
officer  in  command  bringing  with  him  a  tolerably  tall  young 
tree,  which  he  had  plucked  up  by  the  roots,  to  satisfy  cer- 
tain distrustful  passengers  whose  minds  misgave  them  that 
they  were  to  be  imposed  upon  and  shipwrecked,  and  who 
would  on  no  other  terms  believe  that  he  had  been  ashore, 
or  had  done  any  thing  but  fraudulently  row  a  little  way  into 
the  mist  especially  to  deceive  them  and  compass  their  deaths. 
Our  captain  had  foreseen  from  the  first  that  we  must  be  in  a 
place  called  the  Eastern  passage  ;  and  so  we  were.  It  was 
about  the  last  place  in  the  world  in  which  we  had  any  busi- 
ness or  reason  to  be,  but  a  sudden  fog,  and  some  error  on  the 
pilot's  part,  were  the  cause.  We  were  surrounded  by  banks, 
and  rocks,  and  shoals  of  all  kinds,  but  had  happily  drifted, 
it  seemed,  upon  the  only  safe  speck  that  was  to  be  found 
thereabout.  Eased  by  this  report,  and  by  the  assurance 
that  the  tide  was  past  the  ebb,  we  turned  in  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

I  was  dressing  about  half-past  nine  next  day,  when  the 
noise  above  hurried  me  on  deck.  When  I  had  left  it 
over-night,  it  was  dark,  foggy  and  damp,  and  there  were 
bleak  hills  ail  round  us.  Now  we  were  gliding  down  a 
smooth,  broad  stream  at  the  rate  of  eleven  miles  an  hour  ; 
our  colors  flying  gayly  ;  our  crew  rigged  out  in  their  smartest 
clothes  ;  our  officers  in  uniform  again  ;  the  sun  shining  as 
on  a  brilliant  April  day  in  England  ;  the  land  stretched  out 
on  either  side,  streaked  with  light  patches  of  snow ;  white 


22  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

wooden  houses  ;  people  at  their  doors  ;  telegraphs  working  ; 
flags  hoisted  ;  wharfs  appearing  ;  ships  ;  quays  crowded 
with  people  ;  distant  noises  ;  shouts  ;  men  and  boys  running 
down  steep  places  toward  the  pier  :  all  more  bright  and  gay 
and  fresh  to  our  unused  eyes  than  words  can  paint  them. 
We  came  to  a  wharf,  paved  with  uplifted  faces  ;  got  along- 
side, and  were  made  fast,  after  some  shouting  and  straining 
of  cables  ;  darted,  a  score  of  us  along  the  gangway,  almost 
as  soon  as  it  was  thrust  out  to  meet  us,  and  before  it  had 
reached  tlie  ship — and  leaped  upon  the  firm  glad  earth 
again  ! 

I  suppose  this  Halifax  would  have  appeared  an  Elysium, 
though  it  had  been  a  curiosity  of  ugly  dullness.  But  I  car- 
ried away  with  me  a  most  pleasant  impression  of  the  town 
and  its  inhabitants,  and  have  preserved  it  to  this  hour.  Nor 
was  it  without  regret  that  I  came  home,  without  having 
found  an  opportunity  of  returning  thither,  and  once  more 
shaking  hands  with  the  friends  I  made  that  day. 

It  happened  to  be  the  opening  of  the  Legislative  Council 
and  General  Assembly,  at  which  ceremonial  the  forms  ob- 
served on  the  commencement  of  a  new  session  of  parliament 
in  England  were  so  closely  copied,  and  so  gravely  presented 
on  a  small  scale,  that  it  was  like  looking  at  Westminster 
through  the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope.  The  governor,  as 
her  majesty's  representative,  delivered  what  may  be  called 
the  speech  from  the  throne.  He  said  what  he  had  to  say 
manfully  and  well.  The  military  band  outside  the  building 
struck  up  il  God  save  the  Queen  "  with  great  vigor  before 
his  excellency  had  quite  finished  ;  the  people  shouted  ;  the 
ins  rubbed  their  hands  ;  the  outs  shook  their  heads  ;  the 
government  party  said  that  there  never  was  such  a  good 
speech  ;  the  opposition  declared  that  there  never  was  such 
a  bad  one  ;  the  speaker  and  members  of  the  House  of  As- 
sembly withdrew  from  the  bar  to  say  a  great  deal  among 
themselves  and  do  a  little  :  and,  in  short,  every  thing  went 
on,  and  promised  to  go  on,  just  as  it  does  at  home  on  the 
like  occasions. 

The  town  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  the  highest  point 
being  commanded  by  a  strong  fortress,  not  yet  quite  finished. 
Several  streets  of  good  breadth  and  appearance  extend  from 
its  summit  to  the  water  side,  and  are  intersected  by  cross 
streets  running  parallel  with  the  river.  The  houses  are 
chiefly  of  wood.  The  market  is  abundantly  supplied  ;  and 
provisions  are  exceedingly  cheap.     The  weather  being  un- 


AMERICAN  NOTKS.  23 

usually  mild  at  that  time  for  the  season  of  the  year,  there 
was  no  sleighing  ;  but  there  were  plenty  of  those  vehicles  in 
yards  and  by-places,  and  some  of  them,  from  the  gorgeous 
quality  of  their  decorations,  might  have  "gone  on  "  without 
alteration  as  triumphal  cars  in  a  melodrama  at  Astley's. 
The  day  was  uncommonly  fine  ;  the  air  bracing  and  health- 
ful ;  the  whole  aspect  of  the  town  cheerful,  thriving,  and 
industrious. 

We  lay  there  seven  hours  to  deliver  and  exchange  the 
mails.  At  length,  having  collected  all  our  bags  and  all  our 
passengers  (including  two  or  three  choice  spirits,  who,  hav- 
ing indulged  too  freely  in  oysters  and  champagne,  were 
found  lying  insensible  on  their  backs  in  unfrequented 
streets),  the  engines  were  again  put  in  motion,  and  we  stood 
off  for  Boston. 

Encountering  squally  weather  again  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
we  tumbled  and  rolled  about  as  usual  all  that  night  and  all 
next  day.  On  the  next  afternoon,  that  is  to  say,  on  Satur- 
day, the  twenty-second  of  January,  an  American  pilot-boat 
came  alongside,  and  soon  afterward  the  Britannia  steam - 
packet,  from  Liverpool,  eighteen  days  out,  was  telegraphed 
at  Boston. 

The  indescribable  interest  with  which  I  strained  my  eyes, 
as  the  first  patches  of  American  soil  peeped  like  molehills 
from  the  green  sea,  and  followed  them,  as  they  swelled,  by 
slow  and  almost  imperceptible  degrees,  into  a  continuous 
line  of  coast,  can  hardly  be  exaggerated.  A  sharp  keen 
wind  blew  dead  against  us  :  a  hard  frost  prevailed  on  the 
shore  ;  and  the  cold  was  most  severe.  Yet  the  air  was  so 
intensely  clear,  and  dry,  and  bright,  that  the  temperature 
was  not  only  endurable,  but  delicious. 

How  I  remained  on  deck,  staring  about  me,  until  we  came 
alongside  the  dock,  and  how,  though  I  had  had  as  many  eyes 
as  Argus,  I  should  have  had  them  all  wide  open,  and  all 
employed  on  new  objects — are  topics  which  I  will  not  pro- 
long this  chapter  to  discuss.  Neither  will  I  more  than  hint 
at  my  foreigner-like-mistake,  in  supposing  that  a  party  of 
most  active  persons,  who  scrambled  on  board  at  the  peril  of 
their  lives  as  we  approached  the  wharf,  were  newsmen, 
answering  to  that  industrious  class  at  home  ;  whereas,  de- 
spite the  leathern  wallets  of  news  slung  about  the  necks  of 
some,  and  the  broad  sheets  in  the  hands  of  all,  they  were 
editors,  who  boarded  ships  in  person  (as  one  gentleman  in 
a  worsted  comforter  informed  me),  "  because  they  liked  the 


24  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

excitement  of  it."  Suffice  it  in  this  place  to  say,  that  one  of 
these  invaders,  with  a  ready  courtesy  for  which  I  thank  him 
here  most  gratefully,  went  on  before  to  order  rooms  at  the 
hotel  ;  and  that  when  I  followed,  as  I  soon  did,  I  found 
myself  rolling  through  the  long  passages  with  an  involuntary 
imitation  of  the  gait  of  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke,  in  a  new  nautical 
melodrama. 

"  Dinner,  if  you  please,"  said  I  to  the  waiter. 

"  When  ? "  said  the  waiter. 

"  As  quick  as  possible,"  said  I. 

"  Right  away  ?  "  said  the  waiter. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  I  answered  "  No,"  at  hazard. 

"  Not  right  away  ? "  cried  the  waiter,  with  an  amount  of 
surprise  that  made  me  start. 

I  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  and  returned,  "  No  ;  I  would 
rather  have  it  in  this  private  room.     I  like  it  very  much." 

At  this,  I  really  thought  the  waiter  must  have  gone  out  of 
his  mind,  as  I  believe  he  would  have  done  but  *for  the 
interposition  of  another  man,  who  whispered  in  his  ear, 
"Directly." 

"  Well !  and  that's  a  fact !  "  said  the  waiter,  looking  help- 
lessly at  me  :  "  Right  away." 

I  saw  now  that  "right  away  "  and  "  directly  "  were  one 
and  the  same  thing.  So  I  reversed  my  previous  answer,  and 
sat  down  to  dinner  in  ten  minutes  afterward  ;  and  a  capital 
dinner  it  was. 

The  hotel  (a  very  excellent  one)  is  called  the  Tremont 
House.  It  has  more  galleries,  colonnades,  piazzas,  and  pas- 
sages than  I  can  remember,  or  the  reader  would  believe. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BOSTON. 

In  all  the  public  establishments  of  America,  the  utmost 
courtesy  prevails.  Most  of  our  departments  are  susceptible 
of  considerable  improvement  in  this  respect,  but  the  custom- 
house above  all  others  would  do  well  to  take  example  from 
the  United  States  and  render  itself  somewhat  less  odious  and 
offensive  to  foreigners.  The  servile  rapacity  of  the  French 
officials  is  sufficiently  contemptible  ;  but  there  is  a  surly, 
boorish  incivility  about  our  men,  alike  disgusting  to  all  per- 
sons who  fall  into  their  hands,  and  discreditable  to  the  na- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  2$ 

tion  that  keeps  such  ill-conditioned  curs  snarling  about  its 
gates. 

When  I  landed  in  America,  I  could  not  help  being  strongly- 
impressed  with  the  contrast  their  custom-house  presented, 
and  the  attention,  politeness  and  good  humor  with  which  its 
officers  discharged  their  duty. 

As  we  did  not  land  at  Boston,  in  consequence  of  some  de- 
tention at  the  wharf,  until  after  dark,  I  received  my  first  im- 
pressions of  the  city  in  walking  down  to  the  custom-house 
on  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  which  was  Sunday.  I  am 
afraid  to  say,  by  the  way,  how  many  offers  of  pews  and  seats 
in  church  for  that  morning  were  made  to  us,  by  formal  note 
of  invitation,  before  we  had  half  finished  our  first  dinner  in 
America,  but  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  make  a  moderate  guess, 
without  going  into  nicer  calculation,  I  should  say  that  at 
least  as  many  sittings  were  offered  us,  as  would  have  accom- 
modated a  score  or  two  of  grown  up  families.  The  number 
of  creeds  and  forms  of  religion  to  which  the  pleasure  of  our 
company  was  requested,  was  in  very  fair  proportion. 

Not  being  able,  in  the  absence  of  any  change  of  clothes, 
to  go  to  church  that  day,  we  were  compelled  to  decline  these 
kindnesses,  one  and  all  ;  and  I  was  reluctantly  obliged  to 
forego  the  delight  of  hearing  Dr.  Channing,  who  happened 
to  preach  that  morning  for  the  first  time  in  a  very  long  inter- 
val. I  mention  the  name  of  this  distinguished  and  accom- 
plished man  (with  whom  I  soon  afterward  had  the  pleasure 
of  becoming  personally  acquainted),  that  I  may  have  the 
gratification  of  recording  my  humble  tribute  of  admiration 
and  respect  for  his  high  abilities  and  character  ;  and  for  the 
bold  philanthropy  with  which  he  has  ever  opposed  himself 
to  that  most  hideous  blot  and  foul  disgrace — slavery. 

To  return  to  Boston.  When  I  got  into  the  streets  upon 
this  Sunday  morning,  the  air  was  so  clear,  the  houses  were  so 
bright  and  gay  ;  the  sign  boards  were  painted  in  such  gaudy 
colors  ;  the  gilded  letters  were  so  very  golden  ;  the  bricks 
were  so  very  red,  the  stone  was  so  very  white,  the  blinds  and 
area  railings  were  so  very  green,  the  knobs  and  plates  upon 
the  street  doors  so  marvelously  bright  and  twinkling  ;  and  all 
so  slight  and  unsubstantial  in  appearance — that  every  thor- 
oughfare in  the  city  looked  exactly  like  a  scene  in  a  panto- 
mime. It  rarely  happens  in  the  business  streets  that  a  trades- 
man, if  I  may  venture  to  call  any  body  a  tradesman,  where 
every  body  is  a  merchant,  resides  above  his  store  ;  so  that 
many  occupations  are  often  carried  on  in  one  house,  and  the 


26  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

whole  front  is  covered  with  boards  and  inscriptions.  As  I 
walked  along,  I  kept  glancing  up  at  these  boards,  confidently 
expecting  to  see  a  few  of  them  change  into  something  ;  and 
I  never  turned  a  corner  suddenly  without  looking  out  for  the 
clown  and  pantaloon,  who,  I  had  no  doubt,  were  hiding  in  a 
doorway  or  behind  some  pillar  close  at  hand.  As  to  the 
harlequin  and  columbine,  I  discovered  immediately  that  they 
lodged  (they  are  always  looking  after  lodgings  in  a  panto- 
mime) at  a  very  small  clock  maker's  one  story  high,  near 
the  hotel;  which,  in  addition  to  various  symbols  and  devices, 
almost  covering  the  whole  front,  had  a  great  dial  hanging  out 
— to  be  jumped  through,  of  course. 

The  suburbs  are,  if  possible,  even  more  unsubstantial 
looking  than  the  city.  The  white  wooden  houses  (so  white 
that  it  makes  one  wink  to  look  at  them),  with  their  green 
jalousie  blinds,  are  so  sprinkled  and  dropped  about  in  ail  di- 
rections, without  seeming  to  have  any  root  at  all  in  the 
ground  ;  and  the  small  churches  and  chapels  are  so  prim,  and 
bright,  and  highly  varnished  ;  that  I  almost  believed  the 
whole  affair  could  be  taken  up  piecemeal  like  a  child's  toy 
and  crammed  into  a  little  box. 

The  city  is  a  beautiful  one,  and  can  not  fail,  I  should  im- 
agine, to  impress  all  strangers  very  favorably.  The  private 
dwelling  houses  are,  for  the  most  part,  large  and  elegant ;  the 
shops  extremely  good  ;  and  the  public  buildings  handsome. 
The  State  House  is  built  upon  the  summit  of  a  hill,  which 
rises  gradually  at  first,  and  afterward  by  a  steep  ascent,  al- 
most from  the  water's  edge.  In  front  is  a  green  inclosure, 
called  the  common.  The  site  is  beautiful :  and  from  the  top 
there  is  a  charming  panoramic  view  of  the  whole  town  and 
neighborhood.  In  addition  to  a  variety  of  commodious 
offices,  it  contains  two  handsome  chambers;  in  one  the  House 
of  Representatives  of  the  state  hold  their  meetings  :  in  the 
other,  the  Senate.  Such  proceedings  as  I  saw  here  were 
conducted  with  perfect  gravity  and  decorum  ;  and  were  cer- 
tainly calculated  to  inspire  attention  and  respect. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  much  of  the  intellectual  refinement 
and  superiority  of  Boston,  is  referable  to  the  quiet  influence 
of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  which  is  within  three  or  four 
miles  of  the  city.  The  resident  professors  at  that  university 
are  gentlemen  of  learning  and  varied  attainments  ;  and  are, 
without  one  exception  that  I  can  call  to  mind,  men  who  would 
shed  a  grace  upon,  and  do  honor  to,  any  society  in  the  civil- 
ized world.     Many  of  the  resident  gentry  in  Boston  and  its 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  27 

neighborhood,  and  I  think  I  am  not  mistaken  in  adding,  a 
large  majority  of  those  who  are  attached  to  the  liberal  pro- 
fessions there,  have  been  educated  at  the  same  school.  What- 
ever the  defects  of  American  universities  may  be,  they  dis- 
seminate no  prejudices  ;  rear  no  bigots  ;  dig  up  the  buried 
ashes  of  no  old  superstitions  ;  never  interpose  between  the 
people  and  their  improvement  ;  exclude  no  man  because  ot 
his  religious  opinions  ;  above  all,  in  their  whole  course  of 
study  and  instruction,  recognize  a  world,  and  a  broad  one 
too,  lying  beyond  the  college  walls. 

It  was  a  source  of  inexpressible  pleasure  to  me  to  observe 
the  almost  imperceptible,  but  not  less  certain,  effect  wrought 
by  this  institution  among  the  small  community  of  Boston  ; 
and  to  note  at  every  turn  the  humanizing  tastes  and  desires 
it  has  engendered  ;  the  affectionate  friendships  to  which  it 
has  given  rise  ;  the  amount  of  vanity  and  prejudice  it  has 
dispelled.  The  golden  calf  they  worship  at  Boston  is  a  pigmy 
compared  with  the  giant  effigies  set  up  in  the  other  parts  of 
that  vast  counting-house  which  lies  beyond  the  Atlantic  ;  and 
the  almighty  dollar  sinks  into  something  comparatively  insig- 
nificant, amidst  a  whole  Pantheon  of  better  gods. 

Above  all,  I  sincerely  believe  that  the  public  institutions 
and  charities  of  this  capital  of  Massachusetts  are  as  nearly 
perfect,  as  the  most  considerate  wisdom,  benevolence,  and 
humanity,  can  make  them.  I  never  in  my  life  was  more 
affected  by  the  contemplation  of  happiness,  under  circum- 
stances of  privation  and  bereavement,  than  in  my  visits  to 
these  establishments. 

It  is  a  great  and  pleasant  feature  of  all  such  institutions  in 
America,  that  they  are  either  supported  by  the  state  or  as- 
sisted by  the  state  ;  or  (in  the  event  of  their  not  needing  its 
helping  hand)  that  they  act  in  concert  with  it,  and  are  em- 
phatically the  people's.  I  can  not  but  think,  with  a  view  to 
the  principle  and  its  tendency  to  elevate  or  depress  the  char- 
acter of  the  industrious  classes,  that  public  charity  is  im- 
measurably better  than  a  private  foundation,  no  matter  how 
munificently  the  latter  may  be  endowed.  In  our  own  country 
where  it  has  not,  until  within  these  latter  days,  been  a  very 
popular  fashion  with  governments  to  display  any  extraordi- 
nary regard  for  the  great  mass  of  the  people  or  to  recognize 
their  existence  as  improvable  creatures,  private  charities, 
unexampled  in  the  history  of  the  earth,  have  arisen  to  do  an 
incalculable  amount  of  good  among  the  destitute  and  afflicted. 
But  the  government  of  the  country,  having  neither  act  nor 


28  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

part  in  them,  is  not  in  the  receipt  of  any  portion  of  the 
gratitude  they  inspire  ;  and,  offering  very  little  shelter  or 
relief  beyond  that  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  work-house 
and  the  jail,  has  come,  not  unnaturally,  to  be  looked  upon  by 
the  poor  rather  as  a  stern  master,  quick  to  correct  and  punish, 
than  a  kind  protector,  merciful  and  vigilant  in  their  hour  of 
need. 

The  maxim  that  out  of  evil  cometh  good,  is  strongly  illus- 
trated by  these  establishments  at  home  ;  as  the  records  of 
the  Prerogative  Office  in  Doctors'  Commons  can  abundantly 
prove.  Some  immensely  rich  old  gentleman  or  lady,  sur- 
rounded by  needy  relatives,  makes,  upon  a  low  average,  a 
will  a  week.  The  old  gentleman  or  lady,  never  very  remark- 
able in  the  best  of  times  for  good  temper,  is  full  of 
aches  and  pains  from  head  to  foot ;  full  of  fancies  and  ca- 
prices ;  full  of  spleen,  distrust,  suspicion,  and  dislike.  To 
cancel  old  wills,  and  invent  new  ones,  is  at  last  the  sole  busi- 
ness of  such  a  testator's  existence  ;  and  relations  and  friends 
(some  of  whom  have  been  bred  up  distinctly  to  inherit  a 
large  share  of  the  property,  and  have  been,  from  their  cradles, 
especially  disqualified  from  devoting  themselves  to  any  use- 
ful pursuit,  on  that  account)  are  so  often  and  so  unexpect- 
edly and  summarily  cut  off,  and  reinstated,  and  cut  off, 
again,  that  the  whole  family,  down  to  the  remotest  cousin, 
is  kept  in  a  perpetual  fever.  At  length  it  becomes  plain  that 
the  old  lady  or  gentleman  has  not  long  to  live  ;  and  the 
plainer  this  becomes,  the  more  clearly  the  old  lady  or  gentle- 
man perceives  that  every  body  is  in  a  conspiracy  against 
their  poor  old  dying  relative  ;  wherefore  the  old  lady  or 
gentleman  makes  another  last  will — positively  the  last  this 
time — conceals  the  same  in  a  china  tea-pot,  and  expires  next 
day.  Then  it  turns  out,  that  the  whole  of  the  real  and  per- 
sonal estate  is  divided  between  half  a  dozen  charities  ;  and 
that  the  dead  and  gone  testator  has  in  pure  spite  helped  to 
do  a  great  deal  of  good,  at  the  cost  of  an  immense  amount 
of  evil  passion  and  misery. 

The  Perkins  Institution  and  Massachusetts  Asylum  for 
the  Blind,  at  Boston,  is  superintended  by  a  body  of  trustees 
who  make  an  annual  report  to  the  corporation.  The  indigent 
blind  of  that  state  are  admitted  gratuitously.  Those  from 
the  adjoining  state  of  Connecticut,  or  from  the  states  of 
Maine,  Vermont,  or  New  Hampshire,  are  admitted  by  a 
warrant  from  the  state  to  which  they  respectively  belong  ; 
or,  failing  that,  must  find  security  among  their  friends,  for 


American  notes. 


20 


the  payment  of  about  twenty  pounds  English  for  their  first 
year's  board  and  instruction,  and  ten  for  the  second.  "  After 
the  first  year,"  say  the  trustees,  "  an  account  current  will  be 
opened  with  each  pupil  ;  he  will  be  charged  with  the  actual 
cost  of  his  board,  which  will  not  exceed  two  dollars  per 
week  " — a  trifle  more  than  eight  shillings  English  ;  "  and  he 
will  be  credited  with  the  amount  paid  for  him  by  the  state, 
or  by  his  friends  ;  also  with  his  earnings  over  and  above  the 
cost  of  the  stock  which  he  uses ;  so  that  all  his  earnings  over 
one  dollar  per  week  will  be  his  own.  By  the  third  year  it 
will  be  known  whether  his  earnings  will  more  than  pay  the 
actual  cost  of  his  board  ;  if  they  should,  he  will  have  it  at 
his  option  to  remain  and  receive  his  earnings,  or  not.  Those 
who  prove  unable  to  earn  their  own  livelihood  will  not  be 
retained  ;  as  it  is  not  desirable  to  convert  the  establish- 
ment into  an  alms-house,  or  to  retain  any  but  working  bees 
in  the  hive.  Those  who  by  physical  or  mental  imbecility 
are  disqualified  from  work,  are  thereby  disqualified  from 
being  members  of  an  industrious  community  ;  and  they 
can  be. better  provided  for  in  establishments  fitted  for  the 
infirm." 

I  went  to  see  this  place  one  very  fine  winter  morning  :  an 
Italian  sky  above,  and  the  air  so  clear  and  bright  on  every 
side,  that  even  my  eyes,  which  are  none  of  the  best,  could 
follow  the  minute  lines  and  scraps  of  tracery  in  distant  build- 
ings. Like  most  other  public  institutions  in  America,  of  the 
same  class,  it  stands  a  mile  or  two  without  the  town,  in  a 
cheerful,  healthy  spot  ;  and  is  an  airy,  spacious,  handsome 
edifice.  It  is  built  upon  a  height,  commanding  the  harbor. 
When  I  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  door,  and  marked  how 
fresh  and  free  the  whole  scene  was — what  sparkling  bubbles 
glanced  upon  the  waves,  and  welled  up  every  moment  to  the 
surface,  as  though  the  world  below,  like  that  above,  were 
radiant  with  the  bright  day,  and  gushing  over  in  its  fullness 
of  light  :  when  I  gazed  from  sail  to  sail  away  upon  a  ship  at 
sea,  a  tiny  speck  of  shining  white,  the  only  cloud  upon  the 
still,  deep,  distant  blue — and,  turning,  saw  a  blind  boy  with 
his  sightless  face  addressed  that  way,  as  though  he,  too,  had 
some  sense  within  him  of  the  glorious  distance,  I  felt  a 
kind  of  sorrow  that  the  place  should  be  so  very  light,  and  a 
strange  wish  that  for  his  sake  it  were  darker.  It  was  but 
momentary,  of  course,  and  a  mere  fancy,  but  I  felt  it  keenly 
for  all  that. 

The  children  were  at  their  daily  tasks  in  different  rooms, 


30  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

except  a  few  who  were  already  dismissed,  and  were  at  play\ 
Here,  as  in  many  institutions,  no  uniform  is  worn  ;  and  I  was 
very  glad  of  it,  for  two  reasons.  Firstly,  because  I  am  sure 
that  nothing  but  senseless  custom  and  want  of  thought  would 
reconcile  us  to  the  liveries  and  badges  we  are  so  fond  of  at 
home.  Secondly,  because  the  absence  of  these  things  pre- 
sents each  child  to  the  visitor  in  his  or  her  own  proper  char- 
acter, with  its  individuality  unimpaired  ;  not  lost  in  a  dull, 
ugly,  monotonous  repetition  of  the  same  unmeaning  garb  : 
which  is  really  an  important  consideration.  The  wisdom  of 
encouraging  a  little  harmless  pride  in  personal  appearance 
even  among  the  blind,  or  the  whimsical  absurdity  of  consid- 
ering charity  and  leather  breeches  inseparable  companions, 
as  we  do,  requires  no  comment. 

Good  order,  cleanliness,  and  comfort,  pervaded  every 
corner  of  the  building.  The  various  classes,  who  were 
gathered  round  their  teachers,  answered  the  questions  put 
to  them  with  readiness  and  intelligence,  and  in  a  spirit  of 
cheerful  contest  for  precedence  which  pleased  me  very 
much.  Those  who  were  at  play,  were  gleesome  and  noisy 
as  other  children.  More  spiritual  and  affectionate  friend- 
ships appeared  to  exist  among  them,  than  would  be  found 
among  other  young  persons  suffering  under  no  deprivation  ; 
but  this  I  expected  and  was  prepared  to  find.  It  is  a  part 
of  the  great  scheme  of  heaven's  merciful  consideration  for 
the  afflicted. 

In  a  portion  of  the  building,  set  apart  for  that  purpose, 
are  work-shops  for  blind  persons  whose  education  is  finished, 
and  who  have  acquired  a  trade,  but  who  can  not  pursue  it  in 
an  ordinary  manufactory  because  of  their  deprivation.  Sev- 
eral people  were  at  work  here  ;  making  brushes,  mattresses, 
and  so  forth  ;  and  the  cheerfulness,  industry,  and  good  order 
discernible  in  every  other  part  of  the  building,  extended  to 
this  department  also. 

On  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  the  pupils  all  repaired,  without 
any  guide  or  leader,  to  a  spacious  music-hall,  where  they  took 
their  seats  in  an  orchestra  erected  for  that  purpose,  and 
listened  with  manifest  delight  to  a  voluntary  on  the  organ 
played  by  one  of  themselves.  At  its  conclusion,  the  per- 
former, a  boy  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  gave  place  to  a  girl  ; 
and  to  her  accompaniment  they  all  sung  a  hymn,  and  after- 
ward a  sort  of  chorus.  It  was  very  sad  to  look  upon  and 
hear  them,  happy  though  their  condition  unquestionably 
was  ;  and  1  saw  that  one  blind  girl,  who  (being  for  the  time 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  31 

deprived  of  the  use  of  her  limbs,  by  illness)  sat  close  beside 
me  with  her  face  toward  them,  wept  silently  the  while  she 
listened. 

It  is  strange  to  watch  the  faces  of  the  blind,  and  see  how 
free  they  are  from  all  concealment  of  what  is  passing  in 
their  thoughts  ;  observing  which,  a  man  with  eyes  may 
blush  to  contemplate  the  mask  he  wears.  Allowing  for  one 
shade  of  anxious  expression  which  is  never  absent  from 
their  countenances,  and  the  like  of  which  we  may  readily 
detect  in  our  own  faces  if  we  try  to  feel  our  way  in  the  dark, 
every  idea,  as  it  rises  within  them,  is  expressed  with  the  light- 
ning's speed  and  nature's  truth.  If  the  company  at  a  rout, 
or  drawing-room  at  court,  could  only  for  one  time  be  as  un- 
conscious of  the  eyes  upon  them  as  blind  men  and  women 
are,  what  secrets  would  come  out,  and  what  a  worker  of  hy- 
pocrisy this  sight,  the  loss  of  which  we  so  much  pity,  would 
appear  to  be  ! 

The  thought  occurred  to  me  as  I  sat  down  in  another 
room,  before  a  girl,  blind,  deaf  and  dumb  ;  destitute  of 
smell  ;  and  nearly  so  of  taste  :  before  a  fair  young  creature 
with  every  human  faculty,  and  hope,  and  power  of  good- 
ness and  affection,  inclosed  within  her  delicate  frame,  and 
but  one  outward  sense — the  sense  of  touch.  There  she  was 
before  me  ;  built  up,  as  it  were,  in  a  marble  cell,  impervious 
to  any  ray  of  light,  or  particle  of  sound  ;  with  her  poor 
white  hand  peeping  through  a  chink  in  the  wall,  beckoning 
to  some  good  man  for  help,  that  an  immortal  soul  might  be 
awakened. 

Long  before  I  looked  upon  her  the  help  had  come.  Her 
face  was  radiant  with  intelligence  and  pleasure.  Her  hair, 
braided  by  her  own  hands,  was  bound  about  her  head, 
whose  intellectual  capacity  and  development  were  beauti- 
fully expressed  in  its  graceful  outline,  and  its  broad  open 
brow  ;  her  dress,  arranged  by  herself,  was  a  pattern  of  neat- 
ness and  simplicity  ;  the  work  she  had  knitted,  lay  beside 
her  ;  her  writing-book  was  on  the  desk  she  leaned  upon. 
From  the  mournful  ruin  of  such  bereavement,  there  had 
slowly  risen  up  this  gentle,  tender,  guileless,  grateful-hearted 
being. 

Like  other  inmates  of  that  house,  she  had  a  green  ribbon 
bound  round  her  eyelids.  A  doll  she  had  dressed  lay  near 
upon  the  ground.  I  took  it  up,  and  saw  that  she  had  made 
a  green  fillet  such  as  she  wore  herself,  and  fastened  it  about 
its  mimic  eyes. 


32  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

She  was  seated  in  a  little  inclosure,  made  by  school-desks 
and  forms,  writing  her  daily  journal.  But  soon  finishing 
this  pursuit,  she  engaged  in  an  animated  communication 
with  a  teacher  who  sat  beside  her.  This  was  a  favorite 
mistress  with  the  poor  pupil.  If  she  could  see  the  face 
of  her  fair  instructress,  she  would  not  love  her  less,  I  am 
sure. 

I  have  extracted  a  few  disjointed  fragments  of  her  history, 
from  an  acconnt,  written  by  that  one  man  who  has  made  her 
what  she  is.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  and  touching  narrative  ; 
and  I  wish  I  could  present  it  entire. 

Her  name  is  Laura  Bridgman.  "  She  was  born  in  Han- 
over, New  Hampshire,  on  the  twenty-first  of  December,  1829. 
She  is  described  as  having  been  a  very  sprightly  and  pretty 
infant,  with  bright  blue  eyes.  She  was,  however,  so  puny  and 
feeble  until  she  was  a  year  and  a  half  old,  that  her  parents 
hardly  hoped  to  rear  her.  She  was  subject  to  severe  fits, 
which  seemed  to  rack  her  frame  almost  beyond  her  power  of 
endurance  :  and  life  was  held  by  the  feeblest  tenure  ;  but 
when  a  year  and  a  half  old,  she  seemed  to  rally  ;  the  danger- 
ous symptoms  subsided  ;  and  at  twenty  months  old  she  was 
perfectly  well. 

"  Then  her  mental  powers,  hitherto  stinted  in  their 
growth,  rapidly  developed  themselves  ;  and  during  the  four 
months  of  health  which  she  enjoyed,  she  appears  (making 
due  allowance  for  a  fond  mother's  account),  to  have  dis- 
played a  considerable  degree  of  intelligence. 

"  But  suddenly  she  sickened  again  ;  her  disease  raged 
with  great  violence  during  five  weeks,  when  her  eyes  and 
ears  were  inflamed,  suppurated  and  their  contents  were  dis- 
charged. But  though  sight  and  hearing  were  gone  forever, 
the  poor  child's  sufferings  were  not  ended.  The  fever 
raged  during  seven  weeks  ;  for  five  months  she  was  kept  in 
bed  in  a  darkened  room  ;  it  was  a  year  before  she  could 
walk  unsupported,  and  two  years  before  she  could  sit  up  all 
day.  It  was  now  observed  that  her  sense  of  smell  was 
almost  entirely  destroyed  and,  consequently,  that  her  taste 
was  much  blunted. 

"  It  was  not  until  four  years  of  age  that  the  poor  child's 
bodily  health  seemed  restored,  and  she  was  able  to  enter 
upon  her  apprenticeship  of  life  and  the  world. 

"  But  what  a  situation  was  hers  !  The  darkness  and  the 
silence  of  the  tomb  were  around  her  :  no  mother's  smile 
called  forth  her  answering  smile,  no  father's  voice  taught  her 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  33 

to  imitate  his  sounds  : — they,  brothers  and  sisters,  were  but 
forms  of  matter  which  resisted  her  touch,  but  which  differed 
not  from  the  furniture  of  the  house,  save  in  warmth,  and  in 
the  power  of  locomotion  ;  and  not  even  in  these  respects 
from  the  dog  and  the  cat. 

'*  But  the  immortal  spi:it  which  had  been  implanted  within 
her  could  not  die,  nor  be  maimed  nor  mutilated  ;  and 
though  most  of  its  avenues  of  communication  with  the  world 
were  cut  off,  it  began  to  manifest  itself  through  the  others. 
As  soon  as  she  could  walk,  she  began  to  explore  the  room, 
~and  then  the  house  ;  she  became  familiar  with  the  form, 
density,  weight,  and  heat,  of  every  article  she  could  lay  her 
hands  upon.  She  followed  her  mother,  and  felt  her  hands 
and  arms  as  she  was  occupied  about  the  house  ;  and  her 
disposition  to  imitate,  led  her  to  repeat  every  thing  herself. 
She  even  learned  to  sew  a  little,  and  to  knit." 

The  reader  will  scarcely  need  to  be  told,  however,  that 
the  opportunities  of  communicating  with  her,  were  very, 
very  limited  ;  and  that  the  moral  effects  of  her  wretched 
state  soon  began  to  appear.  Those  who  can  not  be  enlight- 
ened by  reason,  can  only  be  controlled  by  force  ;  and  this, 
coupled  with  her  great  privations,  must  soon  have  reduced 
her  to  a  worse  condition  than  that  of  the  beasts  that  perish, 
but  for  timely  and  unhoped-for  aid. 

"  At  this  time,  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  hear  of  the  child, 
and  immediately  hastened  to  Hanover  to  see  her.  I  found 
her  with  a  well-formed  figure  :  a  strongly-marked,  nervous- 
sanguine  temperament  ;  a  large  and  beautifully-shaped 
head  ;  and  the  whole  system  in  healthy  action.  The  parents 
were  easily  induced  to  consent  to  her  coming  to  Boston,  and 
on  the  4th  of  October,  1837,  they  brought  her  to  the  insti- 
tution. 

"  For  a  while,  she  was  much  bewildered  ;  and  after  wait- 
ing about  two  weeks,  until  she  became  acquainted  with  her 
new  locality,  and  somewhat  familiar  with  the  inmates,  the 
attempt  was  made  to  give  her  knowledge  of  arbitrary  signs, 
by  which  she  could  interchange  thoughts  with  others. 

"  There  was  one  of  two  ways  to  be  adopted  ;  either  to  go 
on  to  build  up  a  language  of  signs  on  the  basis  of  the  natural 
language  which  she  had  already  commenced  herself,  or  to 
teach  her  the  purely  arbitrary  language  in  common  use  : 
that  is,  to  give  her  a  sign  for  every  individual  thing,  or  to 
give  her  a  knowledge  of  letters  by  combination  of  which  she 
might  express  her  idea  of  the  existence,  and  the  mode  and 


34  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

condition  of  existence,  of  any  thing.  The  former  would 
have  been  easy,  but  very  ineffectual  ;  the  latter  seemed  very 
difficult,  but,  if  accomplished,  very  effectual.  I  determined 
therefore  to  try  the  latter. 

"  The  first  experiments  were  made  by  taking  articles  in 
common  use,  such  as  knives,  forks,  spoons,  keys,  etc.,  and 
pasting  upon  them  labels  with  their  names  printed  in  raised 
letters.  These  she  felt  very  carefully,  and  soon,  of  course, 
distinguished  that  the  crooked  lines  spoon,  differed  as 
much  from  the  crooked  k  ey,  as  the  spoon  differed  from  the 
key  in  form. 

%"  Then  small  detached  labels,  with  the  same  words 
printed  upon  them,  were  put  into  her  hands  ;  and  she  soon 
observed  that  they  were  similar  to  the  ones  pasted  on  the 
articles.  She  showed  her  perception  of  this  similarity  by 
laying  the  label  key  upon  the  key,  and  the  label  spoon  upon 
the  spoon.  She  was  encouraged  here  by  the  natural  sign  of 
approbation,  patting  on  the  heed. 

"  The  same  process  was  then  repeated  with  all  the  articles 
which  she  could  handle  ;  and  she  very  easily  learned  to 
place  the  proper  labels  upon  them.  It  was  evident,  however, 
that  the  only  intellectual  exercise  was  that  of  imitation  and 
memory.  She  recollected  that  the  label  book  was  placed 
upon  a  book,  and  she  repeated  the  process  first  from  imita- 
tion, next  from  memory,  with  only  the  motive  of  love  of 
approbation,  but  apparently  without  the  intellectual  percep- 
tion of  any  relation  between  the  things. 

"After  a  while,  instead  of  labels,  the  individual  letters 
were  given  to  her  on  detached  bits  of  paper  ;  they  were 
arranged  side  by  side  so  as  to  spell  book,  key,  etc.,  then  they 
were  mixed  up  in  a  heap,  and  a  sign  was  made  for  her  to 
arrange  them  herself  so  as  to  express  the  words  book,  key, 
etc.  ;  and  she  did  so. 

"  Hitherto,  the  process  had  been  mechanical,  and  the  suc- 
cess about  as  great  as  teaching  a  very  knowing  dog  a  variety 
of  tricks.  The  poor  child  had  sat  in  mute  amazement,  and 
patiently  imitated  every  thing  her  teacher  did  ;  but  now 
the  truth  began  to  flash  upon  her  :  her  intellect  began  to 
work  ;  she  perceived  that  here  was  a  way  by  which  she 
could  herself  make  up  a  sign  of  any  thing  that  was  in  her 
own  mind,  and  show  it  to  another  mind  ;  and  at  once  her 
countenance  lighted  up  with  a  human  expression  :  it  was  no 
longer  a  dog,  or  parrot  ;  it  was  an  immortal  spirit,  eagerly 
seizing  upon  a  new  link  of  union    with    other   spirits  !     I 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  35 

could  almost  fix  upon  the  moment  when  this  truth  dawned 
upon  her  mind,  and  spread  its  light  to  her  countenance  ;  I 
saw  that  the  great  obstacle  was  overcome  ;  and  that  hence- 
forward nothing  but  patient  and  persevering,  but  plain  and 
straightforward,  efforts  were  to  be  used. 

"The  result  thus  far,  is  quickly  related,  and  easily  con- 
ceived ;  but  not  so  was  the  process  ;  for  many  weeks  of  ap- 
parently unprofitable  labor  were  passed  before  it  was  effected. 

"  When  it  was  said  above,  that  a  sign  was  made,  it  was  in- 
tended to  say,  that  the  action  was  performed  by  her  teacher, 
she  feeling  his  hands,  and  then  imitating  the  motion. 

"  The  next  step  was  to  procure  a  set  of  metal  types,  with 
the  different  letters  of  the  alphabet  cast  upon  their  ends  ; 
also  a  board,  in  which  were  square  holes,  into  which  holes 
she  could  set  the  types  ;  so  that  the  letters  on  their  ends 
could  alone  be  felt  above  the  surface. 

"Then,  on  any  article  being  handed  to  her,  for  instance, 
a  pencil  or  a  watch,  she  would  select  the  component  letters 
and  arrange  them  on  her  board,  and  read  them  with  appar- 
ent pleasure. 

"  She  was  exercised  for  several  weeks  in  this  way,  until 
her  vocabulary  became  extensive  ;  and  then  the  important 
step  was  taken  of  teaching  her  how  to  represent  the  differ- 
ent letters  by  the  position  of  her  fingers,  instead  of  the  cum- 
brous apparatus  of  the  board  and  types.  She  accomplished 
this  speedily  and  easily,  for  her  intellect  had  begun  to  work 
in  aid  of  her  teacher,  and  her  progress  was  rapid. 

"  This  was  the  period,  about  three  months  after  she  had 
commenced,  that  the  first  report  of  her  case  was  made,  in 
which  it  was  stated  that  'she  has  just  learned  the  man- 
ual alphabet,  as  used  by  the  deaf  mutes,  and  it  is  a  subject 
of  delight  and  wonder  to  see  how  rapidly,  correctly,  and  ea- 
gerly she  goes  on  with  her  labors.  Her  teacher  gives  her  a 
anew  object,  for  instance,  a  pencil,  first  lets  her  examine  it, 
and  get  an  idea  of  its  use,  then  teaches  her  how  to  spell  it 
by  making  the  signs  for  the  letters  with  her  own  fingers  :  the 
child  grasps  her  hand,  and  feels  her  fingers,  as  the  different 
letters  are  formed  ;  she  turns  her  head  a  little  on  one  side 
like  a  person  listening  closely  ;  her  lips  are  apart  ;  she 
seems  scarcely  to  breathe  ;  and  her  countenance,  at  first 
anxious,  gradually  changes  to  a  smile,  as  she  comprehends 
the  lesson.  She  then  holds  up  her  tiny  fingers,  and  spells 
the  word  in  the  manual  alphabet  ;  next  she  takes  her  types 
and  arranges  her  letters  ;  and  last,  to  make  sure  that  she  is 


36  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

right,  she  takes  the  whole  of  the  types  composing  the  word, 
and  places  them  upon  or  in  contact  with  the  pencil,  or  what- 
ever the  object  may  be.' 

"  The  whole  of  the  succeeding  year  was  passed  in  gratifying 
her  eager  inquiries  for  the  names  of  every  object  which  she 
could  possibly  handle  ;  in  exercising  her  in  the  use  of  the 
manual  alphabet  ;  in  extending  in  every  possible  way  her 
knowledge  of  the  physical  relations  of  things  ;  and  in  proper 
care  of  her  health. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  year  a  report  of  her  case  was  made, 
from  which  the  following  is  an  extract. 

"  '  It  has  been  ascertained  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt, 
that  she  can  not  see  a  ray  of  light,  can  not  hear  the  least 
sound,  and  never  exercises  her  sense  of  smell,  if  she  have 
any.  Thus  her  mind  dwells  in  darkness  and  stillness,  as 
profound  as  that  of  a  closed  tomb  at  midnight.  Of  beauti- 
ful sights,  and  sweet  sounds,  and  pleasant  odors,  she  has  no 
conception  ;  nevertheless,  she  seems  as  happy  and  playful 
as  a  bird  or  a  lamb  ;  and  the  employment  of  her  intellectual 
faculties,  or  the  acquirement  of  a  new  idea,  gives  her  a  vivid 
pleasure  which  is  plainly  marked  in  her  expressive  features. 
She  never  seems  to  repine,  but  has  all  the  buoyancy  and  gay- 
etyof  childhood.  She  is  fond  of  fun  and  frolic,  and  when 
playing  with  the  rest  of  the  children,  her  shrill  laugh  sounds 
loudest  of  the  group. 

"  '  When  left  alone  she  seems  very  happy  if  she  have  her 
knitting  or  sewing,  and  will  busy  herself  for  hours  ;  if  she 
have  no  occupation,  she  evidently  amuses  herself  by  imagin- 
ary dialogues,  or  by  recalling  past  impressions  ;  she  counts 
with  her  fingers,  or  spells  out  names  of  things  which  she  has 
recently  learned,  in  the  manual  alphabet  of  the  deaf  mutes. 
In  this  lonely  self-communion  she  seems  to  reason,  reflect,  and 
argue  ;  if  she  spell  a  word  wrong  with  the  fingers  of  her  right 
hand,  she  instantly  strikes  it  with  her  left,  as  her  teacher 
does,  in  sign  of  disapprobation  ;  if  right,  then  she  pats  her- 
self upon  the  head,  and  looks  rjleased.  She  sometimes  pur- 
posely spells  a  word  wrong  with  the  left  hand,  looks  roguish 
for  a  moment  and  laughs,  and  then  with  the  right  hand 
strikes  the  left  as  if  to  correct  it. 

"  '  During  the  year  she  has  attained  great  dexterity  in  the 
use  of  the  manual  alphabet  of  the  deaf  mutes  ;  and  she  spells 
out  the  words  and  sentences  which  she  knows,  so  fast  and 
so  deftly  that  only  those  accustomed  to  this  language  can 
follow  with  the  eye  the  rapid  motions  of  her  fingers. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  37 

"  '  But  wonderful  as  is  the  rapidity  with  which  she  writes 
her  thoughts  upon  the  air,  still  more  so  is  the  ease  and  accu- 
racy with  which  she  reads  the  words  thus  written  by  another  ; 
grasping  their  hands  in  hers,  and  following  every  movement 
of  their  fingers,  as  letter  after  letter  conveys  their  meaning  to 
her  mind.  It  is  in  this  way  that  she  converses  with  her 
blind  playmates,  and  nothing  can  more  forcibly  show  the 
power  of  mind  in  forcing  matter  to  its  purpose  than  a  meet- 
ing between  them.  For  if  great  talent  and  skill  are  neces- 
sary for  two  pantomimes  to  paint  their  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings by  the  movements  of  the  body,  and  the  expression  of 
the  countenance,  how  much  greater  the  difficulty  when  dark- 
ness shrouds  them  both,  and  the  one  can  hear  no  sound. 

"  *  When  Laura  is  walking  through  a  passage-way,  with 
her  hands  spread  before  her,  she  knows  instantly  every  one 
she  meets,  and  passes  them  with  a  sign  of  recognition  ;  but 
if  it  be  a  girl  of  her  own  age,  and  especially  if  it  be  one  of 
her  favorites,  there  is  instantly  a  bright  smile  of  recognition, 
a  twining  of  arms,  a  grasping  of  hands,  and  a  swift  telegraph- 
ing upon  the  tiny  fingers  ;  whose  rapid  evolutions  convey  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  from  the  outposts  of  one  mind  to  those 
of  the  other.  There  are  questions  and  answers,  exchanges 
of  joy  or  sorrow,  there  are  kissings  and  partings,  just  as  be- 
tween little  children  with  all  their  senses.' 

"  During  this  year,  and  six  months  after  she  had  left  home, 
her  mother  came  to  visit  her,  and  the  scene  of  their  meeting 
was  an  interesting  one. 

"  The  mother  stood  some  time,  gazing  with  overflowing 
eyes  upon  her  unfortunate  child,  who,  all  unconscious  of  her 
presence,  was  playing  about  the  room.  Presently  Laura  ran 
against  her,  and  at  once  began  feeling  her  hands,  examining 
her  dress,  and  trying  to  find  out  if  she  knew  her  ;  but  not 
succeeding  in  this,  she  turned  away  as  from  a  stranger,  and 
the  poor  woman  could  not  conceal  the  pang  she  felt  at  find- 
ing that  her  beloved  child  did  not  know  her. 

"  She  then  gave  Laura  a  string  of  beads  which  she  used 
to  wear  at  home,  which  were  recognized  by  the  child  at 
once,  who,  with  much  joy,  put  them  round  her  neck,  and 
sought  me  eagerly  to  say  she  understood  the  string  was  from 
her  home. 

"  The  mother  now  sought  to  caress  her,  but  poor  Laura 
repelled  her,  preferring  to  be  with  her  acquaintances. 

v,  Another  article  from  home  was  now  given  her,  and  she 
began  to  look  much  interested ;  she  examined  the  stranger 


38  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

much  closer,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  knew  she 
came  from  Hanover  ;  she  even  endured  her  caresses,  but 
would  leave  her  with  indifference  at  the  slightest  sigaal. 
The  distress  of  her  mother  was  now  painful  to  behold  ;  for, 
although  she  had  feared  that  she  should  not  be  recogi  Ued, 
the  painful  reality  of  being  treated  with  cold  indiffereiwo  by 
a  darling  child,  was  too  much  for  woman's  nature  tu  bear. 

"  After  a  while,  on  the  mother  taking  hold  of  her  again,  a 
vague  idea  seemed  to  flit  across  Laura's  mind,  that  this  could 
not  be  a  stranger  ;  she  therefore  felt  her  hands  very  eagerly, 
while  her  countenance  assumed  an  expression  of  intense  in- 
terest ;  she  became  very  pale  ;  and  then  suddenly  red  ;  hope 
seemed  struggling  with  doubt  and  anxiety,  and  never  were 
contending  emotions  more  strongly  painted  upon  the  human 
face  ;  at  this  moment  of  painful  uncertainty,  the  mother  drew 
her  close  to  her  side  and  kissed  her  fondly,  when  at  once  the 
truth  flashed  upon  the  child,  and  all  mistrust  and  anxiety 
disappeared  from  her  face,  as  with  an  expression  of  exceed- 
ing joy  she  eagerly  nestled  to  the  bosom  of  her  parent,  and 
yielded  herself  to  her  fond  embraces. 

"  After  this,  the  beads  were  all  unheeded  ;  the  playthings 
which  were  offered  to  her  were  utterly  disregarded  ;  her 
playmates,  for  whom  but  a  moment  before  she  gladly  left 
the  stranger,  now  vainly  strove  to  pull  her  from  her  mother  ; 
and  though  she  yielded  her  usual  instantaneous  obedience 
to  my  signal  to  follow  me,  it  was  evidently  with  painful  re- 
luctance. She  clung  close  to  me,  as  if  bewildered  and  fear- 
ful ;  and  when,  after  a  moment,  I  took  her  to  her  mother, 
she  sprang  to  her  arms,  and  clung  to  her  with  eager  joy. 

"  The  subsequent  parting  between  them,  showed  alike  the 
affection,  the  intelligence,  and  the  resolution  of  the  child. 

"  Laura  accompanied  her  mother  to  the  door,  clinging 
close  to  her  all  the  way,  until  they  arrived  at  the  threshold, 
where  she  paused  and  felt  around,  to  ascertain  who  was  near 
her.  Perceiving  the  matron,  of  whom  she  is  very  fond,  she 
grasped  her  with  one  hand,  holding  on  convulsively  to  her 
mother  with  the  other  ;  and  thus  she  stood  for  a  moment ; 
then  she  dropped  her  mother's  hand  ;  put  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes ;  and  turning  round,  clung  sobbing  to  the  ma- 
tron ;  while  her  mother  departed  with  emotions  as  deep  as 

those  of  her  child. 

*  *****  * 

"  It  has  been  remarked  in  former  reports,  that  she  can  dis- 
tinguish different  degrees  of  intellect  in  others,  and  that  she 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  39 

soon  regarded,  almost  with  contempt,  a  newcomer,  when, 
after  a  few  days,  she  discovered  her  weakness  of  mind.  This 
unaimiable  part  of  her  character  has  been  more  strongly  de- 
veloped during  the  past  year. 

"  She  chooses  for  her  friends  and  companions  those 
children  who  are  intelligent,  and  can  talk  best  with  her  ;  and 
she  evidently  dislikes  to  be  with  those  who  are  deficient 
in  intellect,  unless,  indeed,  she  can  make  them  serve  her 
purposes,  which  she  is  evidently  inclined  to  do.  She  takes 
advantage  of  them,  and  makes  them  wait  upon  her,  in  a 
manner  that  she  knows  she  could  not  exact  of  others  ;  and 
in  various  ways  shows  her  Saxon  blood. 

*  She  is  fond  of  having  other  children  noticed  and  caressed 
by  the  teachers,  and  those  whom  she  respects  ;  but  this 
must  not  be  carried  too  far,  or  she  becomes  jealous,  She 
wants  to  have  her  share,  which,  if  not  the  lion's,  is  the 
greater  part  ;  and  if  she  does  not  get  it,  she  says,  'My  mother 
will  love  me' 

"  Her  tendency  to  imitation  is  so  strong  that  it  leads  her 
to  actions  which  must  be  entirely  incomprehensible  to  her, 
and  which  can  give  her  no  other  pleasure  than  the  gratifica- 
tion of  an  internal  faculty.  She  has  been  known  to  sit  for 
half  an  hour,  holding  a  book  before  her  sightless  eyes,  and 
moving  her  lips,  as  she  has  observed  seeing  people  do  when 
reading. 

"  She  one  day  pretended  that  her  doll  was  sick  ;  and  went 
through  all  the  motions  of  tending  it,  and  giving  it  medi- 
cine ;  she  then  put  it  carefully  to  bed,  and  placed  a  bottle 
of  hot  water  to  its  feet,  laughing  all  the  time  most  heartily. 
When  I  came  home,  she  insisted  upon  my  going  to  see  it, 
and  feel  its  pulse  ;  and  when  I  told  her  to  put  a  blister  on 
its  back,  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it  amazingly,  and  almost 
screamed  with  delight. 

"  Her  social  feelings  and  her  affections  are  very  strong  ; 
and  when  she  is  sitting  at  work,  or  at  her  studies,  by  the  side 
of  one  of  her  little  friends,  she  will  break  off  from  her  task 
every  few  moments,  to  hug  and  kiss  them  with  an  earnest- 
ness and  warmth  that  is  touching  to  behold. 

"  When  left  alone,  she  occupies  and  apparently  amuses 
herself,  and  seems  quite  contented  ;  and  so  strong  seems  to 
be  the  natural  tendency  of  thought  to  put  on  the  garb  of 
language,  that  she  often  soliloquizes  in  the  finger  language, 
slow  and  tedious  as  it  is.  But  it  is  only  when  alone,  that  she 
is  quiet  :  for  if  she  becomes  sensible  of  the  presence  of  any 


4o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

o\ie  near  her,  she  is  restless  until   she   can  sit  close  beside 
them,  hold  their  hand,  and  converse  with  them  by  signs. 

In  her  intellectual  character  it  is  pleasing  to  observe  an 
insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  a  quick  perception  of 
the  relations  of  things.  In  her  moral  character,  it  is  beauti- 
ful to  behold  her  continual  gladness,  her  keen  enjoyment  of 
existence,  her  expansive  love,  her  unhesitating  confidence, 
her  sympathy  with  suffering,  her  conscientiousness,  truthful- 
ness, and  hopefulness." 

Such  are  a  few  fragments  from  the  simple  but  most  inter- 
esting and  instructive  history  of  Laura  Bridgman.  The 
name  of  her  great  benefactor  and  friend,  who  writes  it,  is 
Doctor  Howe.  ♦There  are  not  many  persons,  I  hope  and  be- 
lieve, who,  after  reading  these  passages,  can  ever  hear  that 
name  with  indifference. 

A  further  account  has  been  published  by  Dr.  Howe,  since 
the  report  from  which  I  have  just  quoted.  It  describes  her 
rapid  mental  growth  and  improvement  during  twelve  months 
more,  and  brings  her  little  history  down  to  the  end  of  last 
year.  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  as  we  dream  in  words, 
and  carry  on  imaginary  conversations,  in  which  we  speak 
both  for  ourselves  and  for  the  shadows  who  appear  to  us  in 
those  visions  of  night,  she  having  no  words,  uses  her  finger 
alphabet  in  her  sleep.  And  it  has  been  ascertained  that 
when  her  slumber  is  broken,  and  is  much  disturbed  by 
dreams,  she  expresses  her  thoughts  in  an  irregular  and  con- 
fused manner  on  her  fingers  :  just  as  we  should  murmur  and 
mutter  them  indistinctly,  in  the  like  circumstances. 

I  turned  over  the  leaves  of  her  diary,  and  found  it  written 
in  a  fair  legible  square  hand,  and  expressed  in  terms  which 
were  quite  intelligible  without  any  explanation.  On  my 
saying  that  I  should  like  to  see  her  write  again,  the  teacher 
who  sat  beside  her,  bade  her  in  their  language,  sign  her 
name  upon  a  slip  of  paper,  twice  or  thrice.  In  doing  so,  I 
observed  that  she  kept  her  left  hand  always  touching,  and 
following  up,  her  right,  in  which,  of  course,  she  held  the 
pen.  No  line  was  indicated  by  any  contrivance,  but  she 
wrote  straight  and  freely. 

She  had,  until  now,  been  quite  unconscious  of  the  presence 
of  visitors  :  but,  having  her  hand  placed  in  that  of  the  gentle- 
man who  accompanied  me,  she  immediately  expressed  his 
name  upon  her  teacher's  palm.  Indeed  her  sense  of  touch  is 
now  so  exquisite,  that  having  been  acquainted  with  a  person 
once,  she  can  recognize  him  or  her  after  almost  any  interval. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  41 

This  gentleman  had  been  in  her  company,  I  believe,  but  very 
seldom,  and  certainly  had  not  seen  her  for  many  months. 
My  hand  she  rejected  at  once,  as  she  does  that  of  any  man 
who  is  a  stranger  to  her.  But  she  retained  my  wife's  with 
evident  pleasure,  kissed  her,  and  examined  her  dress  with  a 
girl's  curiosity  and  interest. 

She  was  merry  and  cheerful,  and  showed  much  innocent 
playfulness  in  her  intercourse  with  her  teacher.  Her  delight 
on  recognizing  a  favorite  playfellow  and  companion — her- 
self a  blind  girl — who  silently,  and  with  an  equal  enjoyment 
of  the  coming  surprise,  took  a  seat  beside  her,  was  beautiful 
to  witness.  It  elicited  from  her  at  first,  as  other  slight  cir- 
cumstances did  twice  or  thrice  during  my  visit,  an  uncouth 
noise  which  was  rather  painful  to  hear.  But  on  her  teacher 
touching  her  lips,  she  immediately  desisted  and  embraced 
her  laughingly  and  affectionately. 

I  had  previously  been  into  another  chamber,  where  a  num- 
ber of  blind  boys  were  swinging,  and  climbing,  and  engaged 
in  various  sports.  They  all  clamored,  as  we  entered,  to  the 
assistant-master,  who  accompanied  us,  "  Look  at  me,  Mr. 
Hart  !  Please,  Mr.  Hart,  look  at  me  !  "  evincing,  I  thought, 
even  in  this,  an  anxiety  peculiar  to  their  condition,  that  their 
little  feats  of  agility  should  be  seen.  Among  them  was  a 
small  laughing  fellow,  who  stood  aloof,  entertaining  himself 
with  a  gymnastic  exercise  for  bringing  the  arms  and  chest 
into  play  ;  which  he  enjoyed  mightily  :  especially  when,  in 
thrusting  out  his  right  arm,  he  brought  it  into  contact  with 
another  boy.  Like  Laura  Bridgman,  this  young  child  was 
deaf  and  dumb  and  blind. 

Dr.  Howe's  account  of  this  pupil's  first  instruction  is  so 
very  striking,  and  so  intimately  connected  with  Laura  her- 
self, that  I  can  not  refrain  from  a  short  extract.  I  may  prem- 
ise that  the  poor  boy's  name  is  Oliver  Caswell ;  that  he  is 
thirteen  years  of  age  ;  and  that  he  was  in  full  possession  of 
all  his  faculties,  until  three  years  and  four  months  old.  He 
was  then  attacked  by  scarlet  fever  ;  in  four  weeks  became 
deaf  ;  in  a  few  weeks  more,  blind  ;  in  six  months,  dumb. 
He  showed  his  anxious  sense  of  this  last  deprivation,  by 
often  feeling  the  lips  of  other  persons  when  they  were  talk- 
ing, and  then  putting  his  hand  upon  his  own,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  he  had  them  in  the  right  position. 

"  His  thirst  for  knowledge,"  says  Dr.  Howe,  "proclaimed 
itself  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  house,  by  his  eager  examina- 
tion of  every  thing  he  could  feel  or  smell  in  his  new  location 


42  .MERICAN  NOTES. 

For  instance,  treading  upon  the  register  of  a  furnace,  he  in- 
stantly stooped  down,  and  began  to  feel  it,  and  soon  discov- 
ered the  way  in  which  the  upper  plate  moved  upon  the 
lower  one  ;  but  this  was  not  enough  for  him,  so  lying  down 
upon  his  face,  he  applied  his  tongue  first  to  one,  then  to  the 
other,  and  seemed  to  discover  that  they  were  of  different 
kinds  of  metal. 

"  His  signs  were  expressive  ;  and  the  strictly  natural  lan- 
guage, laughing,  crying,  sighing,  kissing,  embracing,  etc., 
was  perfect. 

"  Some  of  the  analogical  signs  which  (guided  by  his  fac- 
ulty of  imitation)  he  had  contrived,  were  comprehensible  ; 
such  as  the  waving  motion  of  his  hand  for  the  motion  of  a 
boat,  the  circular  one  for  a  wheel,  etc. 

"  The  first  object  was  to  break  up  the  use  of  these  signs 
and  to  substitute  for  them  the  use   of  purely  arbitrary  ones. 

"  Profiting  by  the  experience  I  had  gained  in  the  other 
cases,  I  omitted  several  steps  of  the  process  before  employed, 
and  commenced  at  once  with  the  finger  language.  Taking, 
therefore,  several  articles  having  short  names,  such  as  key, 
cup,  mug,  etc.,  and  with  Laura  for  an  auxiliary,  I  sat  down, 
and  taking  his  hand,  placed  it  upon  one  of  them,  and  then 
with  my  own  made  the  letters  key.  He  felt  my  hands  eag- 
erly with  both  of  his,  and  on  my  repeating  the  process,  he 
evidently  tried  to  imitate  the  motions  of  my  fingers.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  contrived  to  feel  the  motions  of  my  fingers 
with  one  hand,  and  holding  out  the  other  he  tried  to  imitate 
them,  laughing  most  heartily  when  he  succeeded.  Laura 
was  by,  interested  even  to  agitation  ;  and  the  two  presented 
a  singular  sight  ;  her  face  was  flushed  and  anxious,  and  her 
fingers  twinkling  in  among  ours  so  closely  as  to  follow  every 
motion,  but  so  lightly  as  not  to  embarrass  them  ;  while 
Oliver  stood  attentive,  his  head  a  little  aside,  his  face  turned 
up,  his  left  hand  grasping  mine,  and  his  right  held  out  ;  at 
every  motion  of  my  fingers  his  countenance  betokened  keen 
attention  ;  there  was  an  expression  of  anxiety  as  he  tried  to 
imitate  the  motions  ;  then  a  smile  came  stealing  out  as  he 
thought  he  could  do  so,  and  spread  into  a  joyous  laugh  the 
moment  he  succeeded,  and  felt  me  pat  his  head,  and  Laura 
clap  him  heartily  upon  the  back,  and  jump  up  and  down  in 
her  joy. 

"  He  learned  more  than  a  half-dozen  letters  in  half  an 
hour,  and  seemed  delighted  with  his  success,  at  least,  in  gain- 
ing approbation.     His  attention  then  began  to  flag,  and  I 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  43 

commenced  playing  with  him.  It  was  evident  that  in  all 
this  he  had  merely  been  imitating  the  motions  of  my  fingers, 
and  placing  his  hand  upon  the  key,  cup,  etc.,  as  part  of  the 
process,  without  any  perception  of  the  relation  between  the 
sign  and  the  object. 

"  When  he  was  tired  with  play  I  took  him  back  to  the  table, 
and  he  was  quite  ready  to  begin  again  his  process  of  imita- 
tion. He  soon  learned  to  make  the  letters  for  key,  pen,  pin  ; 
and  by  having  the  object  repeatedly  placed  in  his  hand,  he 
at  last  perceived  the  relation  I  wished  to  establish  between 
them.  This  was  evident,  because,  when  I  made  the  letters 
pin,  or  pen,  or  cup,  he  would  select  the  article. 

"  The  perception  of  this  relation  was  not  accompanied  by 
that  radiant  flash  of  intelligence,  and  that  glow  of  joy,  which 
marked  the  delightful  moment  when  Laura  first  perceived 
it.  I  then  placed  all  the  articles  on  the  table,  and  going 
away  a  little  distance  with  the  children,  placed  Oliver's  fin- 
gers in  the  positions  to  spell  key,  on  which  Laura  went  and 
brought  the  article  :  the  little  fellow  seemed  much  amused 
by  this,  and  looked  very  attentive  and  smiling.  I  then 
caused  him  to  make  the  letters  bread,  and  in  an  instant 
Laura  went  and  brought  him  a  piece  :  he  smelled  at  it ;  put 
it  to  his  lips  ;  cocked  up  his  head  with  a  most  knowing 
look  ;  seemed  to  reflect  a  moment  ;  and  then  laughed  out- 
right, as  much  as  to  say,  '  Aha  !  I  understand  now  how 
something  may  be  made  out  of  this.' 

"  It  was  now  clear  that  he  had  the  capacity  and  inclina- 
tion to  learn,  that  he  was  a  proper  subject  for  instruction, 
and  needed  only  persevering  attention.  I  therefore  put  him 
in  the  hands  of  an  intelligent  teacher,  nothing  doubting  of 
his  rapid  progress." 

Well  may  this  gentleman  call  that  a  delightful  moment,  in 
which  some  distant  promise  of  her  present  state  first  gleamed 
upon  the  darkened  mind  of  Laura  Bridgman.  Throughout 
his  life,  the  recollection  of  that  moment  will  be  to  him  a 
source  of  pure,  unfading  happiness  ;  nor  will  it  shine  less 
brightly  on  the  evening  of  his  days  of  noble  usefulness. 

The  affection  which  exists  between  these  two — the  master 
and  the  pupil — is  as  far  removed  from  all  ordinary  care  and 
regard,  as  the  circumstances  in  which  it  has  had  its  growth, 
are  apart  from  the  common  occurrences  of  life.  He  is  oc- 
cupied now  in  devising  means  of  imparting  to  her  higher 
knowledge  ;  and  of  conveying  to  her  some  adequate  idea  of 
the  great  Creator  of  that  universe  in  which,  dark  and  silent 


44  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

and  scentless  though  it  be  to  her,  she  has  such  deep  delight 
and  glad  enjoyment. 

Ye  who  have  eyes  and  see  not,  and  have  ears  and  hear 
not  ;  ye  who  are  as  the  hypocrites  of  sad  countenances,  and 
disfigure  your  faces  that  ye  may  seem  unto  men  to  fast  ; 
learn  healthy  cheerfulness,  and  mild  contentment,  from  the 
deaf,  and  dumb,  and  blind  !  Self-elected  saints  with  gloomy 
brows,  this  sightless,  earless,  voiceless  child  may  teach  you 
lessons  you  will  do  well  to  follow  !  Let  that  poor  hand  of 
hers  lie  gently  on  your  hearts  ;  for  there  may  be  something 
in  its  healing  touch  akin  to  that  of  the  Great  Master  whose 
precepts  you  misconstrue,  whose  lessons  you  pervert,  of 
whose  charity  and  sympathy  with  all  the  world,  not  one 
among  you  in  his  daily  practice  knows  as  much  as  many  of 
the  worst  among  those  fallen  sinners,  to  whom  you  are  liberal 
in  nothing  but  the  preachment  of  perdition  ! 

As  I  rose  to  quit  the  room,  a  pretty  little  child  of  one  of 
the  attendants  came  running  in  to  greet  its  father.  For  the 
moment,  a  child  with  eyes,  among  the  sightless  crowd,  im- 
pressed me  almost  as  painfully  as  the  blind  boy  in  the  porch 
had  done,  two  hours  ago.  Ah  !  how  much  brighter  and 
more  deeply  blue,  glowing  and  rich  though  it  had  been  be- 
fore, was  the  scene  without,  contrasting  with  the  darkness  of 
so  many  youthful  lives  within  ! 

At  South  Boston,  as  it  is  called,  in  a  situation  excellently 
adapted  for  the  purpose,  several  charitable  institutions  are 
clustered  tegether.  One  of  these,  is  the  State  Hospital  for 
the  Insane  ;  admirably  conducted  on  those  enlightened  prin- 
ciples of  conciliation  and  kindness,  which  twenty  years  ago 
would  have  been  worse  than  heretical,  and  which  have  been 
acted  upon  with  so  much  success  in  our  own  pauper  asylum 
at  Hanwell.  "  Evince  a  desire  to  show  some  confidence, 
and  repose  some  trust,  even  in  mad  people,"  said  the  resi- 
dent physician,  as  we  walked  along  the  galleries,  his  patients 
flocking  rotind  us  unrestrained.  Of  those  who  deny  or 
doubt  the  wisdom  of  this  maxim  after  witnessing  its  effects, 
if  there  be  such  people  still  alive,  I  can  only  say  that  I  hope 
I  may  never  be  summoned  as  a  juryman  on  a  commission 
of  lunacy  whereof  they  are  the  subjects  ;  for  I  should  cer- 
tainly find  them  out  of  their  senses,  on  such  evidence  alone. 

Each  ward  in  this  institution  is  shaped  like  a  long  gallery 
or  hall,  with  the  dormitories  of  the  patients  opening  from 
it  on  either  hand.     Here  they  work,  read,  play  at  skittles, 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  45 

and  other  games  ;  and,  when  the  weather  does  not  admit  of 
their  taking  exercise  out  of  doors,  pass  the  day  together. 
In  one  of  these  rooms,  seated,  calmly,  and  quite  as  a  matter 
of  course,  among  a  throng  of  mad-women,  black  and  white, 
were  the  physician's  wife  and  another  lady,  with  a  couple  of 
children.  These  ladies  were  graceful  and  handsome  ;  and 
it  was  not  difficult  to  perceive  at  a  glance  that  even  their 
presence  there,  had  a  highly  beneficial  influence  on  the 
patients  who  were  grouped  about  them. 

Leaning  her  head  against  the  chimney-piece,  with  a  great 
assumption  of  dignity  and  refinement  of  manner,  sat  an 
elderly  female,  in  as  many  scraps  of  finery  as  Madge  Wild- 
fire herself.  Her  head  in  particular  was  so  strewn  with 
scraps  of  gauze  and  cotton  and  bits  of  paper,  and  had  so 
many  queer  odds  and  ends  stuck  all  about  it,  that  it  looked 
like  a  bird's-nest.  She  was  radiant  with  imaginary  jewels  ; 
wore  a  rich  pair  of  undoubted  gold  spectacles  ;  and  grace- 
fully dropped  upon  her  lap,  as  we  approached,  a  very  old 
greasy  newspaper,  in  which  I  dare  say  she  had  been 
reading  an  account  of  her  own  presentation  at  some  for- 
eign court. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  describing  her,  because  she 
will  serve  to  exemplify  the  physician's  manner  of  acquiring 
and  retaining  the  confidence  of  his  patients. 

"  This,"  he  said  aloud,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  and  ad- 
vancing to  the  fantastic  figure  with  great  politeness — not 
raising  her  suspicions  by  the  slightest  look  or  whisper,  or 
any  kind  of  aside,  to  me  :  "  This  lady  is  the  hostess  of  this 
mansion,  sir.  It  belongs  to  her.  Nobody  else  has  any 
tiling  whatever  to  do  with  it.  It  is  a  large  establishment,  as 
you  see,  and  requires  a  great  number  of  attendants.  She  lives, 
you  observe,  in  the  very  first  style.  She  is  kind  enough  to 
receive  my  visits,  and  to  permit  my  wife  and  family  to  reside 
here  ;  for  which,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  we  are  much 
indebted  to  her.  She  is  exceedingly  courteous,  you  per- 
ceive," on  this  hint  she  bowed  condescendingly,  and  will 
permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  you  :  a  gentle- 
man from  England,  ma'am  :  newly  arrived  from  England, 
after  a  very  tempestuous  passage:  Mr.  Dickens, — the  lady 
of  the  house  !  " 

We  exchanged  the  most  dignified  salutations  with  profound 
gravity  and  respect,  and  so  went  on.  The  rest  of  the  mad- 
women seemed  to  understand  the  joke  perfectly  (not  only  in 
this  case,  but  in  all  others,  except  their  own),  and  be  highly 


46  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

amused  by  it.  The  nature  of  their  several  kinds  of  insanity 
was  made  known  to  me  in  the  same  way,  and  we  left  each  of 
them  in  high  good-humor.  Not  only  is  a  thorough  confi- 
dence established,  by  those  means,  between  the  physician 
and  patient,  in  respect  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  their  hal- 
lucinations, but  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  opportunities 
are  afforded  for  seizing  any  moment  of  reason,  to  startle 
them  by  placing  their  own  delusion  before  them  in  its  most 
incongruous  and  ridiculous  light. 

Every  patient  in  this  asylum  sits  down  to  dinner  every 
day  with  a  knife  and  fork  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  them  sits  the 
gentleman,  whose  manner  of  dealing  with  his  charges,  I 
have  just  described.  At  every  meal,  moral  influence  alone 
restrains  the  more  violent  among  them  from  cutting  the 
throats  of  the  rest  ;  but  the  effect  of  that  influence  is  reduced 
to  an  absolute  certainty,  and  is  found,  even  as  a  means  of 
restraint,  to  say  nothing  of  it  as  a  means  of  cure,  a  hundred 
times  more  efficacious  than  all  the  strait-waistcoats,  fetters, 
and  hand-cuffs,  that  ignorance,  prejudice,  and  cruelty  have 
manufactured  since  the  creation  of  the  world. 

In  the  labor  department,  every  patient  is  as  freely  trusted 
with  the  tools  of  his  trade  as  if  he  were  a  sane  man.  In  the 
garden,  and  on  the  farm,  they  work  with  spades,  rakes  and 
hoes,  For  amusement,  they  walk,  run,  fish,  paint,  read  and 
ride  out  to  take  the  air  in  carriages  provided  for  the  pur- 
pose. They  have  among  themselves  a  sewing  society  to  make 
clothes  for  the  poor,  which  holds  meetings,  passes  resolu- 
tions, never  comes  to  fisticuffs  or  bowie-knives  as  sane 
assemblies  have  been  known  to  do  elsewhere  ;  and  conducts 
all  its  proceedings  with  the  greatest  decorum.  The  irrita- 
bility, which  would  otherwise  be  expended  on  their  own 
flesh,  clothes,  and  furniture,  is  dissipated  in  these  pursuits. 
They  are  cheerful,  tranquil,  and  healthy. 

Once  a  week  they  have  a  ball,  in  which  the  doctor  and 
his  family,  with  all  the  nurses  and  attendants,  take  an  active 
part.  Dances  and  marches  are  performed  alternately,  to 
the  enlivening  strains  of  a  piano  ;  and  now  and  then  some 
gentleman  or  lady  (whose  proficiency  has  been  previom^y 
ascertained)  obliges  the  company  with  a  song  :  nor  does  it 
ever  degenerate,  at  a  tender  crisis,  into  a  screech  or  howl ; 
wherein,  I  must  confess,  I  should  have  thought  the  danger 
lay.  At  an  early  hour  they  all  meet  together  for  these  fes- 
tive purposes  ;  at  eight  o'clock  refreshments  are  served  ;  and 
at  nine  they  separate. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  47 

Immense  politeness  and  good-breeding  are  observed 
throughout.  They  all  take  their  tone  from  the  doctor  ;  and 
he  moves  a  very  Chesterfield  among  the  company.  Like 
other  assemblies,  these  entertainments  afford  a  fruitful  topic 
of  conversation  among  the  ladies  for  some  days  ;  and  the 
gentlemen  are  so  anxious  to  shine  on  these  occasions,  that 
they  have  been  sometimes  found  "  practicing  their  steps  " 
in  private,  to  cut  a  more  distinguished  figure  in  the  dance. 

It  is  obvious  that  one  great  feature  of  this  system,  is  the 
inculcation  and  encouragement,  even  among  such  unhappy 
persons,  of  a  decent  self-respect.  Something  of  the  same 
spirit  pervades  all  the  institutions  at  South  Boston. 

There  is  the  House  of  Industry.  In  that  branch  of  it, 
which  is  devoted  to  the  reception  of  old  or  otherwise  helpless 
paupers,  these  words  are  painted  on  the  walls  :  "  Worthy  of 
Notice.  Self-Government,  Quietude,  and  Peace,  are 
Blessings."  It  is  not  assumed  and  taken  for  granted  that 
being  there  they  must  be  evil-disposed  and  wicked  people, 
before  whose  vicious  eyes  it  is  necessary  to  flourish  threats 
and  harsh  restraints.  They  are  met  at  the  very  threshold 
with  this  mild  appeal.  All  within-doors  is  very  plain  and 
simple,  as  it  ought  to  be,  but  arranged  with  a  view  to  peace 
and  comfort.  It  costs  no  more  than  any  other  plan  of  ar- 
rangement, but  it  speaks  an  amount  of  consideration  for 
those  who  are  reduced  to  seek  a  shelter  there,  which  puts 
them  at  once  upon  their  gratitude  and  good  behavior.  In- 
stead of  being  parceled  out  in  great,  long  rambling  wards 
where  a  certain  amount  of  weazen  life  may  mope,  and  pine, 
and  shiver,  all  day  long,  the  building  is  divided  into  separate 
rooms,  each  with  its  share  of  light  and  air.  In  these,  the 
better  kind  -of  paupers  live.  They  have  a  motive  for  exertion 
and  becoming  pride,  in  the  desire  to  make  these  little  cham- 
bers comfortable  and  decent. 

I  do  not  remember  one  but  it  was  clean  and  neat,  and 
had  its  plant  or  two  upon  the  window-sill,  or  row  of  crockery 
upon  the  shelf,  or  small  display  of  colored  prints  upon  the 
whitewashed  wall,  or,  perhaps,  its  wooden  clock  behind  the 
door. 

The  orphans  and  young  children  are  in  an  adjoining 
building  ;  separate  from  this,  but  a  part  of  the  same  institu- 
tion. Some  are  such  little  creatures,  that  the  stairs  of  Lili- 
putian  measurement,  fitted  to  their  tiny  strides.  The  same 
consideration  for  their  years  and  weakness  is  expressed  in 
their  very  seats,  which  are  perfect  curiosities,  and  look  like 


48  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

articles  of  furniture  for  a  pauper  doll's  house.  I  can  imagine 
the  glee  of  our  poor  law  commissioners  at  the  notion  of 
these  seats  having  arms  and  backs  ;  but  small  spines  being 
of  older  date  than  their  occupation  of  the  board-room  at 
Somerset  House,  I  thought  even  this  provision  very  merci- 
ful and  kind. 

Here  again,  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  inscriptions  on 
the  wall,  which  were  scraps  of  plain  morality,  easily  remem- 
bered and  understood  :  such  as  "  Love  one  another  " — "  God 
remembers  the  smallest  creature  in  His  creation:"  and  straight 
forward  advice  of  that  nature.  The  books  and  tasks  of  these 
smallest  of  scholars,  were  adapted,  in  the  same  judicious  man- 
ner, to  their  childish  powers.  When  we  had  examined  these 
lessons,  four  morsels  of  girls  (of  whom  one  was  blind)  sang 
a  little  song,  about  the  merry  month  of  May,  which  I  thought 
(being  extremely  dismal)  would  have  suited  an  English  No- 
vember better.  That  done,  we  went  to  see  the  sleeping-rooms 
on  the  floor  above,  in  which  the  arrangements  were  no  less 
excellent  and  gentle  than  those  we  had  seen  below.  And 
after  observing  that  the  teachers  were  of  a  class  and  character 
well  suited  to  the  spirit  of  the  place,  I  took  leave  of  the  in- 
fants with  a  lighter  heart  than  ever  I  have  taken  leave  of 
pauper  infants  yet. 

Connected  with  the  House  of  Industry,  there  is  also  an 
hospital,  which  was  in  the  best  order,  and  had,  I  am  glad  to 
say,  many  beds  unoccupied.  It  had  one  fault,  however,  which 
is  common  to  all  American  interiors  :  the  presence  of  the 
eternal,  accursed,  suffocating,  red-hot  demon  of  a  stove,  whose 
breath  would  blight  the  purest  air  under  heaven. 

There  are  two  establishments  for  boys  in  this  same  neigh- 
borhood. One  is  called  the  Boylston  School,  and  is  an  asylum 
for  neglected  and  indigent  boys  who  have  committed  no 
crime,  but  who  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  would  very 
soon  be  purged  of  that  distinction  if  they  were  not  taken 
from  the  hungry  streets  and  sent  here.  The  other  is  a  House 
of  Reformation  for  juvenile  offenders.  They  are  both  under 
the  same  roof,  but  the  two  classes  of  boys  never  come  in  con- 
tact. 

The  Boylston  boys,  as  may  be  readily  supposed,  have  very 
much  the  advantage  of  the  others  in  point  of  personal  ap- 
pearance. They  were  in  their  school-room  when  I  came 
upon  them,  and  answered  correctly,  without  book,  such 
questions  as,  Where  was  England  ;  how  far  was  it ;  what 
was  its  population  ;  its  capital  city  ;  its  form  of  government, 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  49 

and  so  forth.  They  sang  a  song,  too,  about  a  farmer  sow- 
ing his  seed,  with  corresponding  action  at  such  parts  as 
"  'tis  thus  he  sows,"  ''he  turns  him  round,"  "he  claps  his 
hands  ;"  which  gave  it  greater  interest  for  them,  and  accus- 
tomed them  to  act  together  in  an  orderly  manner.  They 
appeared  exceedingly  well-taught,  and  not  better  taught  than 
fed  •  and  a  more  chubby-looking  full-waistcoated  set  of  boys 
I  never  saw. 

The  juvenile  offenders  had  not  such  pleasant  faces  by  a 
great  deal,  and  in  this  establishment  there  were  many  boys 
of  color.  I  saw  them  first  at  their  work  (basket-making,  and 
the  manufacture  of  palm-leaf  hats),  afterward  in  their  school, 
where  they  sang  a  chorus  in  praise  of  liberty — an  odd,  and 
one  would  think,  rather  aggravating  theme  for  prisoners. 
These  boys  are  divided  into  four  classes,  each  denoted  by  a 
numeral,  worn  on  a  badge  upon  the  arm.  On  the  arrival  of 
a  newcomer  he  is  put  into  the  fourth  or  lowest  class,  and 
left,  by  good  behavior,  to  work  his  way  up  into  the  first. 
The  design  and  object  of  this  institution  is  to  reclaim  the 
youthful  criminal  by  firm  but  kind  and  judicious  treatment ; 
to  make  his  prison  a  place  of  purification  and  improvement, 
not  of  demoralization  and  corruption  ;  to  impress  upon  him 
that  there  is  but  one  path,  and  that  one  sober  industry, 
which  can  ever  lead  him  to  happiness  ;  to  teach  him  how  it 
may  be  trodden  if  his  footsteps  have  never  yet  been  led  that 
way,  and  to  lure  him  back  to  it  if  they  have  strayed  ;  in  a 
word,  to  snatch  him  from  destruction,  and  restore  him  to 
society  a  penitent  and  useful  member.  The  importance  of 
such  an  establishment,  in  every  point  of  view,  and  with  refer- 
ence to  every  consideration  of  humanity  and  social  policy, 
requires  no  comment. 

One  other  establishment  closes  the  catalogue.  It  is  the 
House  of  Correction  for  the  State,  in  which  silence  is  strictly 
maintained,  but  where  the  prisoners  have  the  comfort  and 
mental  relief  of  seeing  each  other,  and  of  working  together. 
This  is  the  improved  system  of  prison  discipline  which  we 
have  imported  into  England,  and  which  has  been  in  success- 
ful operation  among  us  for  some  years  past. 

America,  as  a  new  and  not  over-populated  country,  has  in 
all  her  prisons  the  one  great  advantage  of  being  enabled  to 
find  useful  and  profitable  work  for  the  inmates  ;  whereas, 
with  us  the  prejudice  against  prison  labor  is  naturally  very 
strong,  and  almost  insurmountable,  when  honest  men  who 
have  not  offended  against  the  laws  are  frequently  doomed  to 


5° 


AMERICAN  NOTES. 


seek  employment  in  vain.  Even  in  the  United  States  the 
principle  of  bringing  convict  labor  and  free  labor  into  a 
competition  which  must  obviously  be  to  the  disadvantage  of 
the  latter,  has  already  found  many  opponents,  whose  number 
is  not  likely  to  diminish  with  access  of  years. 

For  this  very  reason,  though,  our  best  prisons  would  seem 
at  the  first  glance  to  be  better  conducted  than  those  of 
America.  The  treadmill  is  conducted  with  little  or  no 
noise  ;  five  hundred  men  may  pick  oakum  in  the  same  room, 
without  a  sound  ;  and  both  kinds  of  labor  admit  of  such 
keen  and  vigilant  superintendence  as  will  render  even  a 
word  of  personal  communication  amongst  the  prisoners 
almost  impossible.  On  the  other  hand,  the  noise  of  the 
loom,  the  forge,  the  carpenter's  hammer,  or  the  stone- 
mason's saw,  greatly  favor  those  opportunities  of  intercourse 
— hurried  and  brief  no  doubt,  but  opportunities  still — which 
these  several  kinds  of  work,  by  rendering  it  necessary  for 
men  to  be  employed  very  near  to  each  other,  and  often  side 
by  side,  without  any  barrier  or  partition  between  them,  in 
their  very  nature  present.  A  visitor,  too,  requires  to  reason 
and  reflect  a  little,  before  the  sight  of  a  nunfber  of  men  en- 
gaged in  ordinary  labor,  such  as  he  is  accustomed  to  out-of- 
doors,  will  impress  him  half  as  strongly  as  the  contemplation 
of  the  same  persons  in  the  same  place  and  garb  would,  if 
they  were  occupied  in  some  task,  marked  and  degraded 
everywhere  as  belonging  only  to  felons  in  jails.  In  an 
American  state-prison  or  house  of  correction  I  found  it  diffi- 
cult at  first  to  persuade  myself  that  I  was  really  in  a  jail,  a 
place  of  ignominious  punishment  and  endurance.  And  to 
this  hour  I  very  much  question  whether  the  humane  boast 
that  it  is  not  like  one  has  its  root  in  the  true  wisdom  or 
philosophy  of  the  matter. 

I  hope  I  may  not  be  misunderstood  on  this  subject,  for  it 
is  one  in  which  I  take  a  strong  and  deep  interest.  I  incline 
as  little  to  the  sickly  feeling  which  makes  every  canting  lie 
or  maudlin  speech  of  a  notorious  criminal  a  subject  of  news- 
paper report  and  general  sympathy  as  I  do  to  those  good  old 
customs  of  the  good  old  times  which  made  England,  even 
so  recently  as  in  the  reign  of  the  Third  King  George,  in 
respect  of  her  criminal  code  and  her  prison  regulations,  one 
of  the  most  bloody-minded  and  barbarous  countries  on  the 
earth.  If  I  thought  it  would  do  any  good  to  the  rising  gene- 
ration, I  would  cheerfully  give  my  consent  to  the  disinter- 
ment of   the  bones  of   any  genteel  highwayman  (the  more 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  51 

genteel,  the  more  cheerfully),  and  to  their  exposure,  piece- 
meal, on  any  sign-post,  gate,  or  gibbet,  that  might  be  deemed 
a  good  elevation  for  the  purpose.  My  reason  is  as  well  con- 
vinced that  these  gentry  were  as  utterly  worthless  and  de- 
bauched villains,  as  it  is  that  the  laws  and  jails  hardened 
them  in  their  evil  courses,  or  that  their  wonderful  escapes 
were  effected  by  the  prison-turnkeys  who,  in  those  admira- 
ble da*ys,  had  always  been  felons  themselves,  and  were,  to 
the  last,  their  bosom  friends  and  pot-companions.  At 
the  same  time  I  know,  as  all  men  do  or  should,  that  the  sub- 
ject of  prison  discipline  is  one  of  the  highest  importance  to 
any  community  ;  and  that  in  her  sweeping  reform  and  bright 
example  to  other  countries  on  this  head,  America  has  shown 
great  wisdom,  great  benevolence,  and  exalted  policy.  In 
contrasting  her  system  with  that  which  we  have  modeled 
upon  it,  I  merely  seek  to  show  that  with  all  its  drawbacks, 
ours  has  some  advantages  of  its  own. 

The  House  of  Correction  which  has  led  to  these  remarks, 
is  not  walled,  like  other  prisons,  but  is  palisaded  round  about 
with  tall  rough  stakes,  something  after  the  manner  of  an  in- 
closure  for  keeping  elephants  in,  as  we  see  it  represented  in 
Eastern  prints  and  pictures.  The  prisoners  wear  a  party- 
colored  dress  ;  and  those  who  are  sentenced  to  hard  labor, 
work  at  nail-making,  or  stone-cutting.  When  I  was  there, 
the  latter  class  of  laborers  were  employed  upon  the  stone  for 
a  new  custom-house  in  course  of  erection  at  Boston.  They 
appeared  to  shape  it  skillfully  and  with  expedition,  though 
there  were  very  few  among  them  (if  any)  who  had  not  ac- 
quired the  art  within  the  prison  gates. 

The  women,  all  in  one  large  room,  were  employed  in 
making  light  clothing  for  New  Orleans  and  the  southern 
states.  They  did  their  work  in  silence  like  the  men  ;  and, 
like  them,  were  overlooked  by  the  person  contracting  for 
their  labor,  or  by  some  agent  of  his  appointment.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  they  are  every  moment  liable  to  be  visited  by 
the  prison  officers  appointed  for  that  purpose. 

The  arrangements  for  cooking,  washing  of  clothes,  and  so 
forth,  are  much  upon  the  plan  of  those  I  have  seen  at  home. 
Their  mode  of  bestowing  the  prisoners  at  night  (which  is  of 
general  adoption)  differs  from  ours,  and  is  both  simple  and 
effective.  In  the  center  of  a  lofty  area,  lighted  by  windows 
in  the  four  walls,  are  five  tiers  of  cells,  one  above  the  other  ; 
each  tier  having  before  it  a  light  iron  gallery,  attainable  by 
stairs  of  the  same  construction  and  material :  excepting  the 


52  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

]ower  one,  which  is  on  the  ground.  Behind  these,  back  to 
back  with  them  and  facing  the  opposite  wall,  are  five  cor- 
responding rows  of  cells,  accessible  by  similar  means  :  so 
that,  supposing  the  prisoners  locked  up  in  their  cells,  an 
officer  stationed  on  the  ground,  with  his  back  to  the  wall, 
has  half  their  number  under  his  eye  at  once  ;  the  remaining 
half  being  equally  under  the  observation  of  another  officer 
on  the  opposite  side  ;  and  all  in  one  great  apartment.  MJn- 
less  this  watch  be  corrupted  or  sleeping  on  his  post,  it  is  im- 
possible for  a  man  to  escape  ;  for  even  in  the  event  of  his 
forcing  the  iron  door  of  his  cell  without  noise  (which  is  ex- 
ceedingly improbable),  the  moment  he  appears  outside,  and 
steps  into  that  one  of  the  five  galleries  on  which  it  is  situated, 
he  must  be  plainly  and  fully  visible  to  the  officer  below. 
Each  of  these  cells  holds  a  small  truckle-bed,  in  which  one 
prisoner  sleeps ;  never  more.  It  is  small,  of  course ;  and 
the  door  being  not  solid,  but  grated,  and  without  blind  or 
curtain,  the  prisoner  within  is  at  all  times  exposed  to  the  ob- 
servation and  inspection  of  any  guard  who  may  pass  along 
that  tier  at  any  hour  or  minute  of  the  night.  Every  day  the 
prisoners  receive  their  dinner,  singly,  through  a  trap  in  the 
kitchen  wall  ;  and  each  man  carries  his  to  his  sleeping  cell 
to  eat  it,  where  he  is  locked  up,  alone,  for  that  purpose,  one 
hour.  The  whole  of  this  arrangement  struck  me  as  being 
admirable  ;  and  I  hope  that  the  next  new  prison  we  erect  in 
England  may  be  built  on  this  plan. 

I  was  given  to  understand  that  in  this  prison  no  swords 
or  fire-arms,  or  even  cudgels,  are  kept  ;  nor  is  it  probable 
that,  so  long  as  its  present  excellent  management  continues, 
any  weapon,  offensive  or  defensive,  will  ever  be  required 
within  its  bounds. 

Such  are  the  institutions  at  South  Boston.  In  all  of  them, 
the  unfortunate  or  degenerate  citizens  of  the  state  are  care- 
fully instructed  in  their  duties  both  to  God  and  man  ;  are 
surrounded  by  all  reasonable  means  of  comfort  and  happiness 
that  their  condition  will  admit  of  ;  are  appealed  to,  as  mem- 
bers of  the  great  human  family,  however  afflicted,  indigent, 
or  fallen  ;  are  ruled  by  the  strong  heart,  and  not  by 
the  strong  (though  immeasurably  weaker)  hand.  I  have 
described  them  at  some  length  ;  firstly,  because  their  worth 
demanded  it  ;  and  secondly,  because  I  mean  to  take  them 
for  a  model,  and  to  content  myself  with  saying  of  others  we 
may  come  to,  whose  design  and  purpose  are  the  same,  that 
in  this  or  that  respect  they  practically  fail,  or  differ. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  53 

I  wish  by  this  account  of  them,  imperfect  in  its  execution, 
but  in  its  just  intention  honest,  I  could  hope  to  convey  to 
my  readers  one-hundredth  part  of  the  gratification,  the  sights 
I  have  described  afforded  me. 

To  an  Englishman,  accustomed  to  the  paraphernalia  of 
Westminster  Hall,  an  American  court  of  law  is  as  odd  a 
sight  as,  I  suppose,  an  English  court  of  law  would  be  to  an 
American.  Except  in  the  Supreme  Court  at  Washington 
(where  the  judges  wear  a  plain  black  robe),  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  wig  or  gown  connected  with  the  administration  of 
justice.  The  gentlemen  of  the  bar  being  barristers  and 
attorneys  too  (for  there  is  no  division  of  those  functions  as 
in  England)  are  no  more  removed  from  their  clients  than 
attorneys  in  our  Court  for  the  Relief  of  Insolvent  Debtors 
are,  from  theirs.  The  jury  are  quite  at  home,  and  make  them- 
selves as  comfortable  as  circumstances  will  permit.  The 
witness  is  so  little  elevated  above,  or  put  aloof  from,  the 
crowd  in  the  court,  that  a  stranger  entering  during  a  pause 
in  the  proceedings  would  find  it  difficult  to,  pick  him  out  from 
the  rest.  And  if  it  chanced  to  be  a  criminal  trial,  his  eyes, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  would  wander  to  the  dock  in  search 
of  the  prisoner,  in  vain  ;  for  that  gentleman  would  most 
likely  be  lounging  among  the  most  distinguished  ornaments 
of  the  legal  profession,  whispering  suggestions  in  his  counsel's 
ear,  or  making  a  toothpick  out  of  an  old  quill  with  his  pen- 
knife. 

I  could  not  but  notice  these  differences,  when  I  visited 
the  courts  at  Boston.  I  was  much  surprised  at  first,  too,  to 
observe  that  the  counsel  who  interrogated  the  witness  under 
examination  at  the  time,  did  so  sitting.  But  seeing  that  he 
was  also  occupied  in  writing  down  the  answers,  and  remem- 
bering that  he  was  alone  and  had  no  "  junior,"  I  quickly  con- 
soled myself  with  the  reflection  that  law  was  not  quite  so 
expensive  an  article  here,  as  at  home  ;  and  that  the  absence 
of  sundry  formalities  which  we  regard  as  indispensable,  had 
doubtless  a  very  favorable  influence  upon  the  bill  of  costs. 

In  every  court,  ample  and  commodious  provision  is  made 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  citizens.  This  is  the  case  all 
through  America.  In  every  public  institution,  the  right  of 
the  people  to  attend,  and  to  have  an  interest  in  the  proceed- 
ings, is  most  fully  and  distinctly  recognized.  There  are  no 
grim  door-keepers  to  dole  out  their  tardy  civility  by  the  six- 
penny-worth ;  nor  is  there,  I  sincerely  believe,  any  insolence 


54  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

of  office  of  any  kind.  Nothing  national  is  exhibited  for 
money  ;  and  no  public  officer  is  a  showman.  We  have  begun 
of  late  years  to  imitate  this  good  example.  I  hope  we  shall 
continue  to  do  so  ;  and  that  in  the  fullness  of  time,  even  deans 
and  chapters  may  be  converted. 

In  the  civil  court  an  action  was  trying,  for  damages  sus- 
tained in  some  accident  upon  a  railway.  The  witness  had 
been  examined,  and  counsel  was  addressing  the  jury.  The 
learned  gentleman  (like  a  few  of  his  English  brethren)  was 
desperately  long-winded,  and  had  a  remarkable  capacity  of 
saying  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again.  His  great  theme 
was  "Warren  the  engine  driver,"  whom  he  pressed  into  the 
service  of  every  sentence  he  uttered.  I  listened  to  him  for 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  and,  coming  out  of  court  at  the 
expiration  of  that  time,  without  the  faintest  ray  of  enlight- 
enment as  to  the  merits  of  the  case,  felt  as  if  I  were  at  home 
again. 

In  the  prisoners'  cell,  waiting  to  be  examined  by  the 
magistrate  on  a  charge  of  theft,  was  a  boy.  This  lad,  in- 
stead of  being  committed  to  a  common  jail,  would  be  sent 
to  the  asylum  at  South  Boston,  and  there  taught  a  trade  ; 
and  in  the  course  of  time  he  would  be  bound  apprentice  to 
some  respectable  master.  Thus,  his  detection  in  this  offense, 
instead  of  being  the  prelude  to  a  life  of  infamy  and  a  misera- 
ble death,  would  lead,  there  was  a  reasonable  hope,  to  his 
being  reclaimed  from  vice,  and  becoming  a  worthy  member 
of  society. 

I  am  by  no  means  a  wholesale  admirer  of  our  legal 
solemnities,  many  of  which  impress  me  as  being  exceedingly 
ludicrous.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  too,  there  is  undoubtedly 
a  degree  of  protection  in  the  wig  and  gown — a  dismissal 
of  individual  responsibility  in  dressing  for  the  part — which 
encourages  that  insolent  bearing  and  language,  and  that 
gross  perversion  of  the  office  of  a  pleader  for  the  truth, 
so  frequent  in  our  courts  of  law.  Still,  I  can  not  help 
doubting  whether  America,  in  her  desire  to  shake  off  the 
absurdities  and  abuses  of  the  old  system,  may  not  have  gone 
too  far  into  the  opposite  extreme  ;  and  whether  it  is  not 
desirable,  especially  in  the  small  community  of  a  city  like 
this,  where  each  man  knows  the  other,  to  surround  the 
administration  of  justice  with  some  artificial  barriers  against 
the  "  Hail  fellow,  well  met  "  deportment  of  every-day  life. 
All  the  aid  it  can  have  in  the  very  high  character  and 
ability  of  the  bench,  not  only  here  but  elsewhere,  it  has. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  55 

and  well  deserves  to  have  ;  but  it  may  need  something 
more  :  not  to  impress  the  thoughtful  and  the  well  informed, 
but  the  ignorant  and  heedless  ;  a  class  which  includes  some 
prisoners  and  many  witnesses.  These  institutions  were  es- 
tablished, no  doubt,  upon  the  principle  that  those  who  had 
so  large  a  share  in  making  the  laws  would  certainly  re- 
spect them.  But  experience  has  proved  this  hope  to  be  fal- 
lacious ;  for  no  men  know  better  than  the  judges  of  Amer- 
ica, that  on  the  occasion  of  any  great  popular  excitement 
the  law  is  powerless,  and  can  not,  for  the  time,  assert  its 
supremacy. 

The  tone  of  society  in  Boston  is  one  of  perfect  politeness, 
courtesy,  and  good  breeding.  The  ladies  are  unquestiona- 
bly very  beautiful — in  face  ;  but  there  I  am  compelled  to 
stop.  Their  education  is  much  as  with  us  ;  neither  better 
nor  worse.  I  had  heard  some  very  marvelous  stories  in  this 
respect  ;  but  not  believing  them,  was  not  disappointed. 
Blue  ladies  there  are,  in  Boston  ;  but,  like  philosophers  of 
that  color  and  sex  in  most  other  latitudes,  they  rather  desire 
to  be  thought  superior  than  to  be  so.  Evangelical  ladies 
there  are  likewise,  whose  attachment  to  the  forms  of  religion, 
and  horror  of  theatrical  entertainments,  are  most  exemplary. 
Ladies  who  have  a  passion  for  attending  lectures  are  to  be 
found  among  all  classes  and  all  conditions.  In  the  kind  of 
provincial  life  which  prevails  in  cities  such  as  this,  the  pul- 
pit has  great  influence.  The  peculiar  province  of  the  pul- 
pit in  New  England  (always  excepting  the  Unitarian  minis- 
try) would  appear  to  be  the  denouncement  of  all  innocent 
and  rational  amusements.  The  church,  the  chapel,  and  the 
lecture-room,  are  the  only  means  of  excitement  excepted  ; 
and  to  the  church,  the  chapel,  and  the  lecture-room,  the 
ladies  resort  in  crowds. 

Wherever  religion  is  resorted  to,  as  a  strong  drink,  and  as 
an  escape  from  the  dull,  monotonous  round  of  home,  those 
of  its  ministers  who  pepper  the  highest  will  be  the  surest  to 
please.  They  who  strew  the  Eternal  Path  with  the  greatest 
amount  of  brimstone,  and  who  most  ruthlessly  tread  down 
the  flowers  and  leaves  that  grow  by  the  way-side,  will  be 
voted  the  most  righteous  ;  and  they  who  enlarge  with  the 
greatest  pertinacity  on  the  difficulty  of  getting  into  heaven 
will  be  considered  by  all  true  believers  certain  of  going 
there  ;  though  it  would  be  hard  to  say  by  what  process 
of  reasoning  this  conclusion  is  arrived  at.  It  is  so  at  home, 
and  it  is  so  abroad.      With  regard  to  the  other  means  of 


56  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

excitement,  the  lecture,  it  has  at  least  the  merit  of  being 
alway  new.  One  lecture  treads  so  quickly  on  the  heels  of 
another,  that  none  are  remembered  ;  and  the  course  of  this 
month  may  be  safely  repeated  next,  with  its  charm  of  nov- 
elty unbroken,  and  its  interest  unabated. 

The  fruits  of  the  earth  have  their  growth  in  corruption. 
Out  of  the  rottenness  of  these  things  there  has  sprung  up 
in  Boston  a  sect  of  philosophers  known  as  Transcendental- 
ists.  On  inquiring  what  this  appellation  might  be  supposed 
to  signify,  I  was  given  to  understand  that  whatever  was  un- 
intelligible would  certainly  be  transcendental.  Not  deriv- 
ing much  comfort  from  this  elucidation,  I  pursued  the  in- 
quiry still  further,  and  found  that  the  Transcendentalists  are 
followers  of  my  friend  Mr.  Carlyle,  or,  I  should  rather  say, 
of  a  follower  of  his,  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  This  gen- 
tleman has  written  a  volume  of  essays,  in  which,  among 
much  that  is  dreamy  and  fanciful  (if  he  will  pardon  me 
for  saying  so),  there  is  much  more  that  is  true  and  manly, 
honest  and  bold.  Transcendentalism  has  its  occasional  va- 
garies (what  school  has  not?),  but  it  has  good  healthful 
qualities  in  spite  of  them  ;  not  least  among  the  number  a 
hearty  disgust  of  cant,  and  an  aptitude  to  detect  her  in  all 
the  million  varieties  of  her  everlasting  wardrobe.  And 
therefore  if  I  were  a  Bostonian,  I  think  I  would  be  a  Trans- 
cendentalist. 

The  only  preacher  I  heard  in  Boston  was  Mr.  Taylor,  who 
addresses  himself  peculiarly  to  seamen,  and  who  was  once  a 
mariner  himself.  I  found  his  chapel  down  among  the  ship- 
ping, in  one  of  the  narrow,  old  water-side  streets,  with  a 
gay  blue  flag  waving  freely  from  its  roof.  In  the  gallery 
opposite  to  the  pulpit  were  a  little  choir  of  male  and  female 
singers,  a  violoncello  and  a  violin.  The  preacher  already  sat 
in  the  pulpit,  which  was  raised  on  pillars,  and  ornamented 
behind  him  with  painted  drapery  of  a  lively  and  somewhat 
theatrical  appearance.  He  looked  a  weather-beaten,  hard- 
featured  man  of  about  six  or  eight  and  fifty  ;  with  deep  lines 
graven,  as  it  were,  into  his  face,  dark  hair,  and  a  stern,  keen 
eye.  Yet  the  general  character  of  his  countenance  was  pleas- 
ant and  agreeable.  The  service  commenced  with  a  hymn, 
to  which  succeeded  an  extemporary  prayer.  It  had  the 
fault  of  frequent  repetition,  incidental  to  all  such  prayers  ; 
but  it  was  plain  and  comprehensive  in  its  doctrines,  and 
breathed  a  tone  of  general  sympathy  and  charity,  which  is 
not  so  commonly  a  characteristic  of  this  form  of  address  to 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  57 

the  Deity  as  it  might  be.  That  done  he  opened  his  dis- 
course, taking  for  his  text  a  passage  from  the  Songs  of 
Solomon,  laid  upon  the  desk  before  the  commencement  of 
the  service  by  some  unknown  member  of  the  congregation  : 
u  Who  is  this  coming  up  from  the  wilderness,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  her  beloved  !  " 

He  handled  his  text  in  all  kinds  of  ways,  and  twisted  it 
into  all  manner  of  shapes  ;  but  always  ingeniously,  and  with 
a  rude  eloquence,  well-adapted  to  the  comprehension  of  his 
hearers.  Indeed  if  I  be  not  mistaken,  he  studied  their  sym- 
pathies and  understandings  much  more  than  the  display  of 
his  own  powers.  His  imagery  was  all  drawn  from  the  sea, 
and  from  the  incidents  of  a  seaman's  life  ;  and  was  often 
remarkably  good.  He  spoke  to  them  of  "that  glorious 
man,  Lord  Nelson,"  and  of  Collingwood  ;  and  drew  nothing 
in,  as  the  saying  is,  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  but  brought 
it  to  bear  upon  his  purpose,  naturally,  and  with  a  sharp 
mind  to  its  effect.  Sometimes,  when  much  excited  with  his 
subject,  he  had  an  odd  way — compounded  of  John  Bunyan, 
and  Balfour  of  Burley — of  taking  his  great  quarto  Bible 
under  his  arm  and  pacing  up  and  down  the  pulpit  with  it  ; 
looking  steadily  down,  meantime,  into  the  midst  of  the  con- 
gregation. Thus,  when  he  applied  his  text  to  the  first 
assemblage  of  his  hearers,  and  pictured  the  wonder  of  the 
church  at  their  presumption  in  forming  a  congregation  among 
themselves,  he  stopped  short  with  his  Bible  under  his  arm 
in  the  manner  I  have  described,  and  pursued  his  discourse 
after  this  manner  : 

"  Who  are  these — who  are  they — who  are  these  fellows  ? 
where  do  they  come  from  !  Where  are  they  going  to  ! — 
Come  from  !  What's  the  answer  ?  " — leaning  out  of  the 
pulpit,  and  pointing  downward  with  his  right  hand  :  "  From 
below  !  " — starting  back  again,  and  looking  at  the  sailors 
before  him  :  "  From  below,  my  brethren.  From  under  the 
hatches  of  sin,  battened  down  above  you  by  the  evil  one. 
That's  where  you  came  from  !  " — a  walk  up  and  down  the 
pulpit:  "  and  where  are  you  going" — stopping  abruptly: 
*■•  where  are  you  going  ?  Aloft  !  " — very  softlv,  and  pointing 
upward  :  "  Aloft  !  "—louder  :  "  aloft !  "—louder  still. 
"  That's  where  you  are  going — with  a  fair  wind — all  taut 
and  trim,  steering  direct  for  heaven  in  its  glory,  where 
there  are  no  storms  or  foul  weather,  and  where  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." — Another 
walk  :  "  That's  where  you're  going  to,  my  friends.    That's  it. 


58  AMERICAN  NOTES; 

That's  the  place.  That's  the  port.  That's  the  haven.  It's 
a  blessed  harbor— still  water  there,  in  all  changes  of  the 
winds  and  tides  ;  no  driving  ashore  upon  the  rocks,  or 
slipping  your  cables  and  running  out  to  sea,  there  ;  Peace 
— peace — peace — all  peace  !  " — Another  walk,  and  patting 
the  Bible  under  his  left  arm  :  "  What  ?  These  fellows  are 
coming  from  the  wilderness,  are  they  ?  Yes.  From  the 
dreary,  blighted  wilderness  of  iniquity,  whose  only  crop  is 
death.  But  do  they  lean  upon  any  thing — do  they  lean 
upon  nothing,  these  poor  seamen  ?  " — Three  raps  upon  the 
Bible  :  "  Oh  yes. — Yes. — They  lean  upon  the  arm  of  their 
beloved" — three  more  raps:  u  upon  the  arm  of  their 
beloved  " — three  more,  and  a  walk  :  "  Pilot,  guilding-star, 
and  compass,  all  in  one,  to  all  hands — here  it  is  " — three 
more  :  "  Here  it  is.  They  can  do  their  seaman's  duty  man- 
fully, and  be  easy  in  their  minds  in  the  utmost  peril  and 
danger,  with  this  " — two  more  :  "  They  can  come,  even  these 
poor  fellows  can  come,  from  the  wilderness  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  their  beloved,  and  go  up — up — up —  !  " — raising  his 
hand  higher,  and  higher,  at  every  repetition  of  the  word,  so 
that  he  stood  with  it  at  last  stretched  above  his  head,  regard- 
ing them  in  a  strange,  rapt  manner,  and  pressing  the  book 
triumphantly  to  his  breast,  until  he  gradually  subsided  into 
some  other  portion  of  his  discourse. 

I  have  cited  this,  rather  as  an  instance  of  the  preacher's 
eccentricities  than  his  merits,  though  taken  in  connection 
with  his  look  and  manner,  and  the  character  of  his  audience, 
even  this  was  striking.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  my 
/avorable  impression  of  him  may  have  been  greatly  influenced 
and  strengthened,  firstly,  by  his  impressing  upon  his  hearers 
that  the  true  observance  of  religion  was  not  inconsistent 
with  a  cheerful  deportment  and  an  exact  discharge  of  the 
duties  of  their  station,  which,  indeed,  it  scrupulously  required 
of  them  ;  and  secondly,  by  his  cautioning  them  not  to  set 
up  any  monopoly  in  paradise  and  its  mercies.  I  never 
heard  these  two  points  so  wisely  touched  (if  indeed  I  have 
ever  heard  them  touched  at  all),  by  any  preacher  of  that 
kind  before. 

Having  passed  the  time  I  spent  in  Boston,  in  making  my^ 
self  acquainted  with  these  tilings,  in  settling  the  course  I 
should  take  in  my  future  travels,  and  in  mixing  constantly 
with  its  society,  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  any  occasion  to 
prolong  this  chapter.  Such  of  its  social  customs  as  I  have 
~et  mentioned,  however,  may  be  told  in  a  very  few  words. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  S9 

The  usual  dinner-hour  is  two  o'clock.  A  canner  party 
takes  place  at  five  ;  and  at  an  evening  party,  they  seldom 
sup  later  than  eleven  ;  so  that  it  goes  hard  but  one  gets 
home,  even  from  a  rout,  by  midnight.  I  never  could  find 
out  any  difference  between  a  party  at  Boston  and  a  party  at 
London,  saving  at  the  former  place  all  assemblies  are  held 
at  more  rational  hours  ;  that  the  conversation  may  possibly 
be  a  little  louder  and  more  cheerful  ;  and  a  guest  is  usually 
expected  to  ascend  to  the  very  top  of  the  house  and  take  his 
cloak  off  ;  that  he  is  certain  to  see,  at  every  dinner,  an 
unusual  amount  of  poultry  on  the  table  ;  and  at  every  supper, 
at  least  two  mighty  bowls  of  hot  stewed  oysters,  in  any  one 
of  which  a  half-grown  Duke  of  Clarence  might  be  smothered 
easily. 

There  are  two  theaters  in  Boston,  of  good  size  and  con- 
struction, but  sadly  in  want  of  patronage.  The  few  ladies 
who  resort  to  them,  sit,  as  of  right,  in  the  front  rows  of  the 
boxes. 

The  bar  is  a  large  room  with  a  stone  floor,  and  there 
people  stand  and  smoke,  and  lounge  about,  all  the  evening  : 
dropping  in  and  out  as  the  humor  takes  them.  There,  too, 
the  stranger  is  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  gin-sling,  cock- 
tail, sangaree,  mint-julep,  sherry-cobbler,  timber-doodle,  and 
other  rare  drinks.  The  house  is  full  of  boarders,  both 
married  and  single,  many  of  whom  sleep  upon  the  premises, 
and  contract  by  the  week  for  their  board  and  lodging  :  the 
charge  for  which  diminishes  as  they  go  nearer  the  sky  to 
roost.  A  public  table  is  laid  in  a  very  handsome  hall  for 
breakfast,  and  for  dinner,  and  for  supper.  The  party  sitting 
down  together  to  these  meals  will  vary  in  number  from  one 
to  two  hundred  ;  sometimes  more.  The  advent  of  each  of 
these  epochs  in  the  day  is  proclaimed  by  an  awful  gong, 
which  shakes  the  very  window-frames  as  it  reverberates 
through  the  house,  and  horribly  disturbs  nervous  foreigners. 
There  is  an  ordinary  for  ladies,  and  an  ordinary  for  gentle- 
men. 

In  our  private  room  the  cloth  could  not,  for  any  earthly 
consideration,  have  been  laid  for  dinner  without  a  huge  glass 
dish  of  cranberries  in  the  middle  of  the  table  ;  and  break- 
fast would  have  been  no  breakfast  unless  the  principal  dish 
were  a  deformed  beef-steak  with  a  great  flat  bone  in  the  cen- 
ter, swimming  in  hot  butter,  and  sprinkled  with  the  very 
blackest  of  all  possible  pepper.  Our  bedroom  was  spacious 
and  airy,  but  (like  every  bedroom  on  this  side  of  the  Atlan- 


6o  AMERICAN   NOTES. 

tic)  very  bare  of  furniture,  having  no  curtains  to  the  French 
bedstead  or  to  the  window.  It  had  one  unusual  luxury, 
however,  in  the  shape  of  a  wardrobe  of  painted  wood,  some- 
thing smaller  than  an  English  watch-box  ;  or,  if  this 
comparison  should  be  insufficient  to  convey  a- just  idea  of 
its  dimensions,  they  may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  of  my 
having  lived  for  fourteen  days  and  nights  in  the  firm  belief 
that  it  was  a  shower-bath. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN      AMERICAN      RAILROAD.  —  LOWELL      AND      ITS      FACTORY 

SYSTEM. 

Before  leaving  Boston  I  devoted  one  day  to  an  excursion 
to  Lowell.  I  assign  a  separate  chapter  to  this  visit  ;  not 
because  I  am  about  to  describe  it  at  any  great  length,  but 
because  I  remember  it  as  a  thing  by  itself,  and  am  desirous 
that  my  readers  should  do  the  same. 

I  made  acquaintance  with  an  American  railroad,  on  this 
occasion,  for  the  first  time.  As  these  works  are  pretty  much 
alike  all  through  the  states,  their  general  characteristics  are 
easily  described. 

There  are  not  first  or  second  class  carriages  as  with  us  ; 
but  there  is  a  gentlemen's  car  and  a  ladies'  car  :  the  main 
distinction  between  which  is  that  in  the  first,  every  body 
smokes  ;  and  in  the  second,  nobody  does.  As  a  black 
man  never  travels  with  a  white  one,  there  is  also  a  negro 
car  ;  which  is  a  great  blundering  clumsy  chest,  such  as  Gul- 
liver put  to  sea  in,  from  the  kingdom  of  Brobdingnag. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  jolting,  a  great  deal  of  noise,  a  great 
deal  of  wall,  not  much  window,  a  locomotive  engine,  a  shriek, 
and  a  bell. 

The  cars  are  like  shabby  omnibuses,  but  larger  :  holding 
thirty,  forty,  fifty  people.  The  seats,  instead  of  stretching 
from  end  to  end,  are  placed  crosswise.  Each  seat  holds  two 
persons.  There  is  a  long  row  of  them  on  each  side  of  the 
caravan,  a  narrow  passage  up  the  middle,  and  a  door  at  both 
ends.  In  the  center  of  the  carriage  there  is  usually  a  hot 
stove,  fed  with  charcoal  or  anthracite  coal  ;  which  is  for  the 
most  part  red-hot.  It  is  insufferably  close  ;  and  you  see 
the  hot  air  fluttering  between  yourself  and  any  other  object 
you  may  happen  to  look  at,  like  the  ghost  of  smoke. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  61 

In  the  ladies'  car,  there  are  a  great  many  gentlemen  who 
have  ladies  with  them.  There  are  also  a  great  many  ladies 
who  have  nobody  with  them  :  for  any  lady  may  travel  alone, 
from  one  end  of  the  United  States  to  the  other,  and  be  cer- 
tain of  the  most  courteous  and  considerate  treatment  every- 
where. The  conductor  or  check-taker,  or  guard,  or  what- 
ever he  may  be,  wears  no  uniform.  He  walks  up  and  down 
the  car,  and  in  and  out  of  it,  as  his  fancy  dictates  ;  leans 
against  the  door  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  stares  at 
you,  if  you  chance  to  be  a  stranger  ;  or  enters  into  conver- 
sation with  the  passengers  about  him.  A  great  many  news- 
papers are  pulled  out,  and  a  few  of  them  are  read.  Every 
body  talks  to  you,  or  to  any  body  else  who  hits  his  fancy. 
If  you  are  an  Englishman,  he  expects  that  that  railroad  is 
pretty  much  like  an  English  railroad.  If  you  say  "  No,"  he 
says  "  Yes  ?  "  (interrogatively),  and  asks  in  what  respect  they 
differ.  You  enumerate  the  heads  of  difference,  one  by  one, 
and  he  says  "  Yes  ?  "  (still  interrogatively)  to  each.  Then  he 
guesses  that  you  don't  travel  faster  in  England  ;  and  on  your 
replying  that  you  do,  says  "  Yes  ?  "  again  (still  interroga- 
tively), and  it  is  quite  evident,  doesn't  believe  it.  After  a 
long  pause  he  remarks,  partly  to  you,  and  partly  to  the  knob 
on  the  top  of  his  stick,  that  "  Yankees  are  reckoned  to  be 
considerable  of  a  go-ahead  people  too  ;  "  upon  which  you 
say  "  Yes,"  and  then  he  says  "  Yes,"  again  (affirmatively  this 
time)  ;  and  upon  your  looking  out  of  window,  tells  you  that 
behind  that  hill,  and  some  three  miles  from  the  next  station, 
there  is  a  clever  town  in  a  smart  lo-ca-tion,  where  he  expects 
you  have  concluded  to  stop.  Your  answer  in  the  negative 
naturally  leads  to  more  questions  in  reference  to  your  in- 
tended route  (always  pronounced  rout)  ;  and  wherever  you 
are  going  you  invariably  learn  that  you  can't  get  there  with- 
out immense  difficulty  and  danger,  and  that  all  the  great 
sights  are  somewhere  else. 

If  a  lady  take  a  fancy  to  any  male  passenger's  seat,  the 
gentleman  who  accompanies  her  gives  him  notice  of  the  fact, 
and  he  immediately  vacates  it  with  great  politeness.  Poli- 
tics are  much  discussed,  so  are  banks,  so  is  cotton.  Quiet 
people  avoid  the  question  of  the  presidency,  for  there  will 
be  a  new  election  in  three  years  and  a  half,  and  party  feeling 
runs  very  high  :  the  great  constitutional  feature  of  this  insti- 
tution being,  that  directly  the  acrimony  of  the  last  election 
is  over,  the  acrimony  of  the  next  one  begins  ;  which  is  an 
unspeakable  comfort  to  all  strong  politicians  and  true  lovers 


62  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

of  their  country :  that  is  to  say,  to  ninety-nine  men  and 
boys,  out  of  every  ninety-nine  and  a  quarter. 

Except  when  a  branch  road  joins  the  main  one,  there  is 
seldom  more  than  one  track  of  rails  ;  so  that  the  road  is  very 
narrow,  and  the  view,  where  there  is  a  deep  cutting,  by  no 
means  extensive.  When  there  is  not,  the  character  of  the 
scenery  is  always  the  same.  Mile  after  mile  of  stunted  trees  : 
some  hewn  down  by  the  ax,  some  blown  down  by  the  wind, 
some  half  falling  and  resting  on  their  neighbors,  many  mere 
logs  half  hidden  in  the  swamp,  others  moldered  away  to 
spongy  chips.  The  very  soil  of  the  earth  is  made  up  of 
minute  fragments  such  as  these  ;  each  pool  of  stagnant  water 
has  its  crust  of  vegetable  rottenness  ;  on  every  side  there  are 
the  boughs,  and  trunks,  and  stumps  of  trees,  in  every  pos- 
sible stage  of  decay,  decomposition,  and  neglect.  Now  you 
emerge  for  a  few  brief  minutes  on  an  open  country,  glittering 
with  some  bright  lake  or  pool,  broad  as  many  an  English 
river,  but  so  small  here  that  it  scarcely  has  a  name  ;  now 
catch  hasty  glimpses  of  a  distant  town  with  its  clean  white 
houses  and  there  cool  piazzas,  its  prim  New  England  church 
and  school-house  ;  when  whir-r-r-r  !  almost  before  you  have 
seen  them,  comes  the  same  dark  screen  ;  the  stunted  trees, 
the  stumps,  the  logs,  the  stagnant  water — all  so  like  the  last 
that  you  seem  to  have  been  transported  back  again  by 
magic. 

The  train  calls  at  stations  in  the  woods,  where  the  wild 
impossibility  of  any  body  having  the  smallest  reason  to  get 
out,  is  only  to  be  equaled  by  the  apparently  desperate  hope- 
lessness of  their  being  any  body  to  get  in.  It  rushes  across 
the  turnpike  road,  where  there  is  no  gate,  no  policeman,  no 
signal :  nothing  but  a  rough  wooden  arch,  on  which  is  painted 
M  When  the  bell  rings,  look  out  for  the  Locomotive." 
On  it  whirls  headlong,  dives  through  the  woods  again, 
emerges  in  the  light,  clatters  over  frail  arches,  rumbles  upon 
the  heavy  ground,  shoots  beneath  a  wooden  bridge  which 
intercepts  the  light  for  a  second  like  a  wink,  suddenly 
awakens  all  the  slumbering  echoes  in  the  main  street  of  a  large 
town,  and  dashes  on  haphazard,  pell-mell,  neck-or-nothing, 
down  the  middle  of  the  road.  There — with  mechanics 
working  at  their  trades,  and  people  leaning  from  their  doors 
and  windows,  and  boys  flying  kites  and  playing  marbles,  and 
men  smoking,  and  women  talking,  and  children  crawling, 
and  pigs  burrowing,  and  unaccustomed  horses  plunging  and 
rearing,  close  to  the  very  rails — there — on,  on,  on — tears  the 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  63 

mad  dragon  of  an  engine  with  its  train  of  cars  ;  scattering 
in  all  directions  a  shower  of  burning  sparks  from  its  wood 
fire  ;  screeching,  hissing,  yelling,  panting  ;  until  at  last  the 
thirsty  monster  stops  beneath  a  covered  way  to  drink, 
the  people  cluster  round,  and  you  have  time  to  breathe 
again. 

I  was  met  at  the  station  at  Lowell  by  a  gentleman  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  management  of  the  factories 
there  ;  and,  gladly  putting  myself  under  his  guidance,  drove 
off  at  once  to  that  quarter  of  the  town  in  which  the  works, 
the  object  of  my  visit,  were  situated.  Although  only  just  of 
age — for  if  my  recollection  serve  me,  it  has  been  a  manu- 
facturing town  barely  one-and-twenty  years — Lowell  is  a 
large,  populous  thriving  place.  Those  indications  of  its 
youth  which  first  attract  the  eye,  give  it  a  quaintness  and 
oddity  of  character  which,  to  a  visitor  from  the  old  country, 
is  amusing  enough.  It  was  a  very  dirty  winter's  day,  and 
nothing  in  the  whole  town  looked  old  to  me,  except  the  mud, 
which  in  some  parts,  was  almost  knee-deep,  and  might  have 
been  deposited  there  on  the  subsiding  of  the  waters  after 
the  Deluge.  In  one  place,  there  was  a  new  wooden  church, 
which,  having  no  steeple,  and  being  yet  unpainted,  looked 
like  an  enormous  packing-case  without  any  direction  upon 
it.  In  another  there  was  a  large  hotel,  whose  walls  and 
colonnades  were  so  crisp,  and  thin,  and  slight,  that  it  had 
exactly  the  appearance  of  being  built  with  cards.  I  was 
careful  not  to  draw  my  breath  as  we  passed,  and  trembled 
when  I  saw  a  workman  come  out  upon  the  roof,  lest  with 
one  thoughtless  stamp  of  his  foot  he  should  crush  the  struc- 
ture beneath  him,  and  bring  it  rattling  down.  The  very 
river  that  moves  the  machinery  in  the  mills  (for  they  are  all 
worked  by  water-power),  seems  to  acquire  a  new  character 
from  the  fresh  buildings  of  bright  red  brick  and  painted 
wood  among  which  it  takes  its  course  ;  and  to  be  as  light- 
headed, thoughtless,  and  brisk  a  young  river,  in  its  murmur- 
ings  and  tumblings,  as  one  would  desire  to  see.  One  would 
swear  that  every  "Bakery,"  "  Grocery,"  and  "Book-bindery," 
and  other  kind  of  store,  took  its  shutters  down  for  the  first 
time,  and  started  in  business  yesterday.  The  golden  pestles 
and  mortars  fixed  as  signs  upon  the  sun-blind  frames  out- 
side the  Druggists',  appear  to  have  been  just  turned  out  of 
the  United  States'  Mint  ;  and  when  I  saw  a  baby  of  some 
week  or  ten  days  old  in  a  woman's  arms  at  a  street-corner, 
I   found    mysfif  unconsciously    wondering  where  it  came 


64  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

from  ;    never  supposing   for  an  instant,   that  it  could  nave 
been  born  in  such  a  young  town  as  that. 

There  are  several  factories  in  Lowell,  each  of  which 
belongs  to  what  we  should  term  a  company  of  proprietors, 
but  what  they  call  in  America  a  corporation.  I  went  over 
several  of  theses  such  as  a  woolen  factory,  a  carpet  factory, 
and  a  cotton  factory  ;  examined  them  in  every  part ;  and 
saw  them  in  their  ordinary  working  aspect,  with  no  prepa- 
ration of  any  kind,  or  departure  from  their  ordinary  every- 
day proceedings.  I  may  add  that  I  am  well  acquainted 
with  our  manufacturing  towns  in  England,  and  have  visited 
many  mills  in  Manchester  and  elsewhere  in  the  same 
manner. 

I  happened  to  arrive  at  the  first  factory  just  as  the  dinner 
hour  was  over,  and  the  girls  were  returning  to  their  work  ; 
indeed,  the  stairs  of  the  mill  were  thronged  with  them  as  I 
ascended.  They  were  all  well-dressed,  but  not  to  my  think 
ing  above  their  condition  ;  for  I  like  to  see  the  humbler 
classes  of  society  careful  of  their  dress  and  appearance,  and 
even,  if  they  please,  decorated  with  such  little  trinkets  as 
come  within  the  compass  of  their  means.  Supposing  it 
confined  within  reasonable  limits,  I  would  always  encourage 
this  kind  of  pride,  as  a  worthy  element  of  self-respect,  in 
any  person  I  employed  ;  and  should  no  more  be  deterred 
from  doing  so,  because  some  wretched  female  referred  her 
fall  to  a  love  of  dress,  than  I  would  allow  my  construction 
of  the  real  intent  and  meaning  of  the  Sabbath  to  be  influ- 
enced by  any  warning  to  the  well-disposed,  founded  on  his 
backslidings  on  that  particular  day,  which  might  emanate 
from  the  rather  doubtful  authority  of  a  murderer  in  New- 
gate. 

These  girls,  as  I  have  said,  were  all  well  dressed  ;  and 
that  phrase  necessarily  includes  extreme  cleanliness.  They 
had  serviceable  bonnets,  good  warm  cloaks,  and  shawls  ; 
and  were  not  above  clogs  and  pattens.  Moreover,  there 
were  places  in  the  mill  in  which  they  could  deposit  these 
things  without  injury ;  and  there  were  conveniences  for 
washing.  They  were  healthy  in  appearance,  many  of  them 
remarkably  so,  and  had  the  manners  and  deportment  of 
young  women  :  not  of  degraded  brutes  of  burden.  If  I  had 
seen  in  one  of  those  mills  (but  I  did  not,  though  I  looked 
for  something  of  this  kind  with  a  sharp  eye),  the  most  lisp- 
ing, mincing,  affected,  and  ridiculous  young  creature  that 
my  imagination  could  suggest,  I  should  have  thought  of  the 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  65 

careless,  moping,  slatternly,  degraded,  dull  reverse  (I  have 
seen  that),  and  should  have  been  still  well  pleased  to  look 
upon  her. 

The  rooms  in  which  they  worked  were  as  well  ordered  as 
themselves.  In  the  windows  of  some  there  were  green 
plants,  which  were  trained  to  shade  the  glass  ;  in  all,  there 
was  as  much  fresh  air,  cleanliness,  and  comfort,  as  the  na- 
ture of  the  occupation  would  possibly  admit  of.  Out  of  so 
large  a  number  of  females,  many  of  whom  were  only  then 
just  verging  upon  womanhood,  it  may  be  reasonably  sup- 
posed that  some  were  delicate  and  fragile  in  appearance  ;  no 
doubt  there  were.  But  I  solemnly  declare,  that  from  all  the 
Crowd  I  saw  in  the  different  factories  that  day,  I  can  not  re- 
call or  separate  one  young  face  that  gave  me  a  painful  im- 
pression ;  not  one  young  girl  whom,  assuming  it  to  be  mat- 
ter of  necessity  that  she  should  gain  her  daily  bread  by  the 
labor  of  her  hands,  I  would  have  removed  from  those  works 
if  I  had  had  the  power. 

They  reside  in  various  boarding-houses  near  at  hand. 
The  owners  of  the  mills  are  particularly  careful  to  allow  no 
persons  to  enter  upon  the  possession  of  these  houses  whose 
characters  have  not  undergone  the  most  searching  and  thor- 
ough inquiry.  Any  complaint  that  is  made  against  them  by 
the  boarders,  or  by  any  one  else,  is  fully  investigated  ;  and 
if  good  ground  of  complaint  be  shown  to  exist  against  them, 
they  are  removed,  and  their  occupation  is  handed  over  to 
some  more  deserving  person.  There  are  a  few  children  em- 
ployed in  these  factories,  but  not  many.  The  laws  of  the 
state  forbid  their  working  more  than  nine  months  in  the 
year,  and  require  that  they  be  educated  during  the  other 
three.  For  this  purpose  there  are  schools  in  Lowell  ;  and 
there  are  churches  and'chapels  of  various  persuasions,  in 
which  the  young  women  may  observe  that  form  of  worship 
in  which  they  have  been  educated. 

At  some  distance  from  the  factories,  and  on  the  highest 
and  pleasantest  ground  in  the  neighborhood,  stands  their 
hospital,  or  boarding-house  for  the  sick  :  it  is  the  best  house 
in  those  parts,  and  was  built  by  an  eminent  merchant  for  his 
own  residence.  Like  that  institution  at  Boston,  which  I 
have  before  described,  it  is  not  parceled  out  into  wards,  but 
is  divided  into  convenient  chambers,  each  of  which  has  all 
the  comforts  of  a  very  comfortable  home.  The  principal 
medical  attendant  resides  under  the  same  roof  ;  and  were  the 
patients  members  of  his  own  family,  they  could  not  be  better 


66  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

cared  for,  or  attended  with  greater  gentleness  and  consider- 
ation. The  weekly  charge  in  this  establishment  for  one 
female  patient  is  three  dollars,  or  twelve  shillings  English  ; 
but  no  girl  employed  by  any  of  the  corporations  is  ever  ex- 
cluded for  want  of  the  means  of  payment.  That  they  do 
not  very  often  want  the  means,  may  be  gathered  from  the 
fact,  that  in  July,  1841,  no  fewer  than  nine  hundred  and 
seventy-eight  of  these  girls  were  depositors  in  the  Lowell 
Savings  Bank  ;  the  amount  of  whose  joint  savings  was  esti- 
mated at  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  or  twenty  thousand 
English  pounds. 

I  am  now  going  to  state  three  facts,  which  will  startle  a 
large  class  of  readers  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  very  much. 

Firstly,  there  is  a  joint-stock  piano  in  a  great  many  of  the 
boarding-houses.  Secondly,  nearly  all  these  young  ladies 
subscribe  to  circulating  libraries.  Thirdly,  they  have  got 
up  among  themselves  a  periodical  called  the  Lowell  Of- 
fering, "  A  repository  of  original  articles,  written  exclusively 
by  females  actively  employed  in  the  mills," — which  is  duly 
printed,  published,  and  sold  ;  and  whereof  I  brought  away 
from  Lowell  four  hundred  good  solid  pages,  which  I  have 
read  from  beginning  to  end. 

The  large  class  of  readers,  startled  by  these  facts,  will  ex- 
claim, with  one  voice,  "  How  very  preposterous  !  "  On  my 
deferentially  inquiring  why,  they  will  answer,  "  These  things 
are  above  their  station."  In  reply  to  that  objection,  I  would 
beg  to  ask  what  their  station  is. 

It  is  their  station  to  work.  And  they  do  work.  They 
labor  in  these  mills,  upon  an  average,  twelve  hours  a  day, 
which  is  unquestionably  work.  And  pretty  tight  work  too. 
Perhaps  it  is  above  their  station  to  indulge  in  such  amuse- 
ments on  any  terms.  Are  we  quite -sure  that  we  in  England 
have  not  formed  our  ideas  of  the  "station  "  of  working  peo- 
ple from  accustoming  ourselves  to  the  contemplation  of  that 
class  as  they  are,  and  not  as  they  might  be  ?  I  think  that  if 
we  examine  our  own  feelings,  we  shall  find  that  the  pianos, 
and  the  circulating  libraries,  and  even  the  "  Lowell  Offering," 
startle  us  with  their  novelty,  and  not  by  their  bearing  upon 
any  abstract  question  of  right  or  wrong. 

For  myself,  I  know  no  station  in  which,  the  occupation  of 
to-day  cheerfully  done  and  the  occupation  of  to-morrow 
cheerfully  looked  to,  any  one  of  these  pursuits  is  not  most  hu- 
manizing and  laudable.  I  know  no  station  which  is  rendered 
more  endurable  to  the  person  in  it,  or  more  safe  to  the  person 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  C7 

out  of  it,  by  having  ignorance  for  its  associate.  I  know  no 
station  which  has  a  right  to  monopolize  the  means  of  mu- 
tual instruction,  improvement,  and  rational  entertainment ; 
or  which  has  ever  continued  to  be  a  station  very  long,  after 
seeking  to  do  so. 

Of  the  merits  of  the  "  Lowell  Offering  "  as  a  literary  pro- 
duction, I  will  only  observe,  putting  entirely  out  of  sight 
the  fact  of  the  articles  having  been  written  by  these  girls 
after  the  arduous  labors  of  the  day,  that  it  will  compare  ad- 
vantageously with  a  great  many  English  annuals.  It  is 
pleasant  to  find  that  many  of  its  tales  are  of  the  mills  and 
of  those  who  work  in  them  ;  that  they  inculcate  habits  of 
self-denial  and  contentment,  and  teach  good  doctrines  of 
enlarged  benevolence.  A  strong  feeling  for  the  beauties 
of  nature,  as  displayed  in  the  solitudes  the  writers  have 
left  at  home,  breathes  through  its  pages  like  wholesome  vil- 
lage air  ;  and  though  a  circulating  library  is  a  favorable 
school  for  the  study  of  such  topics,  it  has  a  scant  allusion 
to  fine  clothes,  fine  marriages,  fine  houses,  or  fine  life.  Some 
persons  might  object  to  the  papers  being  signed  occasionally 
with  rather  fine  names,  but  this  is  an  American  fashion. 
One  of  the  provinces  of  the  State  Legislature  of  Massa- 
chusetts is  to  alter  ugly  names  into  pretty  ones,  as  the 
children  improve  upon  the  tastes  of  their  parents.  These 
changes  costing  little  or  nothing,  scores  of  Mary  Annes  are 
solemnly  converted  into  Bevelinas  every  session. 

It  is  said  that  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  from  General 
Jackson  or  General  Harrison  to  this  town  (  I  forget  which, 
but  it  is  not  to  the  purpose),  he  walked  through  three  miles 
and  a  half  of  these  young  ladies  all  dressed  out  with  parasols 
and  silk  stockings.  But,  as  I  am  not  aware  that  any  worse 
consequence  ensued,  than  a  sudden  locking  up  of  all  the 
parasols  and  silk  stockings  in  the  market,  and  perhaps  the 
bankruptcy  of  some  speculative  New  Englander  who  bought 
them  all  up  at  any  price,  in  expectation  of  a  demand  that 
never  came,  I  set  no  great  store  by  the  circumstance. 

In  this  brief  account  of  Lowell,  and  inadequate  expres- 
sion of  the  gratification  it  yielded  me,  and  can  not  fail  to  af- 
ford any  foreigner  to  whom  the  condition  of  such  people  at 
home  is  a  subject  of  interest  and  anxious  speculation,  I  have 
carefully  abstained  from  drawing  a  comparison  between 
these  factories  and  those  of  our  own  land.  Many  of  the 
circumstances  whose  strong  influence  has  been  at  work  for 
years  in  our  manufacturing  towns  have  not  arisen  here  ;  and 


68  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

there  is  no  manufacturing  population  in  Lowell,  so  to  speak, 
for  these  girls  (often  the  daughters  of  small  farmers)  come 
from  other  states,  remain  a  few  years  in  the  mills,  and  then 
go  home  for  good. 

The  contrast  would  be  a  strong  one,  for  it  would  be  be- 
tween the  good  and  evil,  the  living  light  and  deepest  shadow. 
I  abstain  from  it,  because  I  deem  it  just  to  do  so.  But  I 
only  the  more  earnestly  adjure  all  those  whose. eyes  may 
rest  on  these  pages,  to  pause  and  reflect  upon  the  difference 
betwen  this  town  and  those  great  haunts  of  desperate  mis- 
ery ;  to  call  to  mind,  if  they  can,  in  the  midst  of  party  strife 
and  squabble,  the  efforts  that  must  be  made  to  purge  them 
of  their  suffering  and  danger  ;  and  last,  and  foremost,  to  re- 
member how  the  precious  time  is  rushing  by. 

I  returned  at  night  by  the  same  railroad  and  in  the  same 
kind  of  car.  One  of  the  passengers  being  exceedingly  anx- 
ious to  expound  at  great  length  to  my  companion  (not  to 
me,  of  course)  the  true  principles  on  which  books  of  travel 
in  America  should  be  written  by  Englishmen,  I  feigned  to 
fall  asleep.  But  glancing  all  the  way  out  at  window  from 
the  corner  of  my  eyes,  I  found  abundance  of  entertainment 
for  the  rest  of  the  ride  in  watching  the  effects  of  the  wood 
:5re,  which  had  been  invisible  in  the  morning,  but  were  now 
brought  out  in  full  relief  by  the  darkness  :  for  we  were  trav- 
eling in  a  whirlwind  of  bright  sparks  which  showered  about 
us  like  a  storm  of  fiery  snow. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WORCESTER. — THE  CONNECTICUT    RIVER. — HARTFORD. — NEW 
HAVEN. TO    NEW    YORK. 

Leaving  Boston  on  the  afternoon  of  Saturday,  the  fifth  of 
February,  we  proceeded  by  another  railroad  to  Worcester  ; 
a  pretty  New  England  town,  where  we  had  arranged  to  re- 
main under  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  governor  of  the  state, 
until  Monday  morning. 

These  towns  and  cities  of  New  England  (many  of  which 
would  be  villages  in  Old  England),  are  as  favorable  speci- 
mens of  rural  America,  as  their  people  are  of  rural  Ameri- 
cans. The  well-trimmed  lawns  and  green  meadows  of  home 
are  not  there  ;  and  the  grass,  compared  with  our  ornamen- 
tal plots  and  pastures,  is  rank  and   rough,  and  wild ;  but 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  69 

delicate  slopes  of  land,  gently  swelling-hills,  wooded  valleysr 
and  slender  streams,  abound.  Every  little  colony  of  houses 
has  its  church  and  school-house  peeping  from  among  the 
white  roofs  and  shady  trees  ;  every  house  is  the  whitest  of 
the  white  ;  every  Venetian  blind  the  greenest  of  the  green  ; 
every  fine  day's  sky  the  bluest  of  the  blue. ,  A  sharp  dry 
wind  and  a  slight  frost  had  so  hardened  the  roads  when  we 
alighted  at  Worcester,  that  their  furrowed  tracks  were  like 
ridges  of  granite.  There  was  the  usual  aspect  of  newness  on 
every  object,  of  course.  All  the  buildings  looked  as  if  they 
had  been  built  and  painted  that  morning,  and  could  be 
taken  down  on  Monday  with  very  little  trouble.  In  the 
keen  evening  air,  every  sharp  outline  looked  a  hundred 
times  sharper  than  ever.  The  clean  cardboard  colonnades 
had  no  more  perspective  than  a  Chinese  bridge  on  a  tea-cup, 
and  appeared  equally  well  calculated  for  use.  The  razor- 
like edges  of  the  detached  cottages  seemed  to  cut  the  very 
wind  as  it  whistled  against  them,  and  to  send  it  smarting  on 
its  way  with  a  shriller  cry  than  before.  Those  slightly-built 
wooden  dwellings  behind  which  the  sun  was  setting  with  a 
brilliant  luster,  could  be  so  looked  through  and  through, 
that  the  idea  of  any  inhabitant  being  able  to  hide  himself 
from  the  public  gaze,  or  to  have  any  secrets  from  the  public 
eye,  was  not  entertainable  for  a  moment.  Even  where  a 
blazing  fire  shone  through  the  uncurtained  windows  of  some 
distant  house,  it  had  the  air  of  being  newly  lighted,  and  of 
lacking  warmth  ;  and  instead  of  awakening  thoughts  of  a 
snug  chamber,  bright  with  faces  that  first  saw  the  light 
round  that  same  hearth,  and  ruddy  with  warm  hangings,  it 
came  upon  one  suggestive  of  the  smell  of  new  mortar  and 
damp  walls. 

So  I  thought,  at  least,  that  evening.  Next  morning  when 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  the  clear  church  bells  were 
ringing,  and  sedate  people  in  their  best  clothes  enlivened 
the  pathway  near  at  hand  and  dotted  the  distant  thread  of 
road,  there  was  a  pleasant  Sabbath  peacefulness  on  every 
thing,  which  it  was  good  to  feel.  It  would  have  been  the 
better  for  an  old  church  ;  better  still  for  some  old  graves  ; 
but  as  it  was,  a  wholesome  repose  and  tranquillity  pervaded 
the  scene,  which  after  the  restless  ocean  and  the  hurried 
city,  had  a  doubly  grateful  influence  on  the  spirits. 

We  went  on  next  morning,  still  by  railroad,  to  Springfield. 
From  that  place  to  Hartford,  whither  we  were  bound,  is  a 
distance  of  only  five-and-twenty  miles,  but  at  that  time  of 


7o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  year  the  roads  were  so  bad  that  the  journey  would  prob- 
ably have  occupied  ten  or  twelve  hours.  Fortunately,  how- 
ever, the  winter  having  been  unusually  mild,  the  Connecti- 
cut River  was  "open,"  or,  in  other  words,  not  frozen.  The 
captain  of  a  small  steamboat  was  going  to  make  his  first  trip 
for  the  season  that  day  (the  second  February  trip,  I  believe, 
within  the  memory  of  man),  and  only  waited  for  us  to  go 
on  board.  Accordingly,  we  went  on  board,  with  as  little 
delay  as  might  be.  He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  started 
directly. 

It  certainly  was  not  called  a  small  steamboat  without 
reason.  I  omitted  to  ask  the  question,  but  I  should  think 
it  must  have  been  of  about  half  a  pony  power.  Mr.  Paap, 
the  celebrated  dwarf,  might  have  lived  and  died  happily  in 
the  cabin,  which  was  fitted  with  common  sash-windows  like 
an  ordinary  dwelling-house.  These  windows  had  bright-red 
curtains,  too,  hung  on  slack  strings  across  the  lower  panes  ; 
so  that  it  looked  like  the  parlor  of  a  Liliputian  public-house, 
which  had  got  afloat  in  a  flood  or  some  other  water  accident, 
and  was  drifting  nobody  knew  where.  But  even  in  this 
chamber  there  was  a  rocking-chair.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  get  on  anywhere,  in  America,  without  a  rocking-chair. 

I  am  afraid  to  tell  how  many  feet  short  this  vessel  was,  or 
bow  many  feet  narrow;  to  apply  the  words  length  and 
width  to  such  measurement  would  be  a  contradiction  in 
terms.  But  I  may  state  that  we  all  kept  the  middle  of  the 
deck,  lest  the  boat  should  unexpectedly  tip  over  ;  and  that 
the  machinery,  by  some  surprising  process  of  condensation, 
worked  between  it  and  the  keel  :  the  whole  forming  a  warm 
sandwich,  about  three  feet  thick. 

It  rained  all  day  as  I  once  thought  it  never  did  rain  any- 
where but  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  The  river  was  full 
of  floating  blocks  of  ice,  which  were  constantly  crunching  and 
cracking  under  us  ;  and  the  depth  of  water,  in  the  course  we 
took  to  avoid  the  larger  masses  carried  down  the  middle  of 
the  river  by  the  current,  did  not  exceed  a  few  inches.  Never- 
theless, we  moved  onward,  dextrously ;  and  being  well 
wrapped  up,  bade  defiance  to  the  weather,  and  enjoyed  the 
journey.  The  Connecticut  River  is  a  fine  stream  ;  and  the 
banks  in  summer-time,  are,  I  have  no  doubt,  beautiful  :  at 
all  events,  1  was  told  so  by  a  young  lady  in  the  cabin  ;  and 
she  should  be  a  judge  of  beauty,  if  the  possession  of  a  quality 
include  the  appreciation  of  it?  for  a  more  beautiful  creature  I 
never  looked  upon. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  71 

After  two  hours  and  a  half  of  this  odd  traveling  (including 
a  stoppage  at  a  small  town,  where  we  were  saluted  by  a  gun 
consideraby  bigger  than  our  own  chimney),  we  reached 
Hartford,  and  straightway  repaired  to  an  extremely  comfort- 
able hotel  :  except,  as  usual,  in  the  article  of  bedrooms, 
which  in  almost  every  place  we  visited  were  very  conducive 
to  early  rising. 

We  tarried  here  four  days.  The  town  is  beautifully  sit- 
uated in  a  basin  of  green  hills  :  the  soil  is  rich,  well-wooded 
and  carefully  improved.  It  is  the  seat  of  the  local  legisla- 
ture of  Connecticut,  which  sage  body  enacted,  in  bygone 
times,  the  renowned  code  of  "  blue  laws,"  in  virtue  whereof, 
among  other  enlightened  provisions,  any  citizen  who  could 
be  proved  to  have  kissed  his  wife  on  Sunday,  was  punisha- 
ble, I  believe,  with  the  stocks.  Too  much  of  the  old  Puritan 
spirit  exists  in  these  parts  to  the  present  hour  ;  but  its  in- 
fluence has  not  tended,  that  I  know,  to  make  the  people  less 
hard  in  their  bargains,  or  more  equal  in  their  dealings.  As  I 
never  heard  of  its  working  that  effect  anywhere  else,  I  infer 
that  it  never  will  here.  Indeed,  I  am  accustomed,  with  ref- 
erence to  great  professions  and  severe  faces,  to  judge  of  the 
goods  of  the  other  world  pretty  much  as  I  judge  of  the  goods 
of  this  :  and  whenever  I  see  a  dealer  in  such  commodities 
with  too  great  a  display  of  them  in  his  window,  I  doubt  the 
quality  of  the  article  within. 

In  Hartford  stands  the  famous  oak  in  which  the  charter 
of  King  Charles  was  hidden.  It  is  now  inclosed  in  a  gentle- 
man's garden.  In  the  State  House  is  the  charter  itself.  I 
found  the  courts  of  law  here  just  the  same  as  at  Boston  ; 
the  public  institutions  almost  as  good.  The  insane  asylum 
is  admirably  conducted,  and  so  is  the  institution  for  the 
deaf  and  dumb. 

I  very  much  questioned  within  myself,  as  I  walked 
through  the  insane  asylum,  whether  I  should  have  known 
the  attendants  from  the  patients,  but  for  the  few  words 
which  passed  between  the  former,  and  the  doctor,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  persons  under  their  charge.  Of  course  I  limit 
this  remark  merely  to  their  books  ;  for  the  conversation  of 
the  mad  people  was  mad  enough. 

There  was  a  little  prim  old  lady,  of  very  smiling  and  good 
humored  appearance,  who  came  sidling  up  to  me  from  the 
end  of  a  long  passage,  and  with  a  courtesy  of  inexpressible 
condescension,  propounded  this  unaccountable  inquiry  : 


72  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

"  Does  Pontefract  still  flourish,  sir,  upon  the  soil  of  En- 
gland ?" 

"  He  does,  ma'am,"  I  rejoined. 

"  When  you  last  saw  him,  sir,  he  was " 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  I,  "  extremely  well.  He  begged  me 
to  present  his  compliments.  I  never  saw  him  looking  bet- 
ter." 

At  this  the  old  lady  was  very  much  delighted.  After 
glancing  at  me  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  be  quite  sure  that  I 
was  serious  in  my  respectful  air,  she  sidled  back  some  paces  ; 
sidled  forward  again  ;  made  a  sudden  skip  (at  which  I  pre- 
cipitately retreated  a  step  or  two),  and  said  : 

"  /am  an  antediluvian,  sir." 

I  thought  the  best  thing  to  say  was,  that  I  had  suspected 
as  much  from  the  first.     Therefore  I  said  so. 

"  It  is  an  extremely  proud  and  pleasant  thing,  sir,  to  be 
an  antediluvian,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  I  should  think  it  was,  ma'am,"  I  rejoined. 

The  old  lady  kissed  her  hand,  gave  another  skip,  smirked 
and  sidled  down  the  gallery  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner, 
and  ambled  gracefully  into  her  own  bed-chamber. 

In  another  part  of  the  building,  there  was  a  male  patient 
in  bed  ;  very  much  flushed  and  heated. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  starting  up  and  pulling  off  his  night-cap  : 
"  it's  all  settled  at  last.  I  have  arranged  it  with  Queen  Vic- 
toria." 

"  Arranged  what  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  that  business,"  passing  his  hand  wearily  across  his 
forehead,  "  about  the  siege  of  New  York." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I,  like  a  man  suddenly  enlightened.  For  he 
looked  at  me  for  an  answer. 

"  Yes.  Every  house  without  a  signal  will  be  fired  upon  by 
the  British  troops.  No  harm  will  be  done  to  the  others.  No 
harm  at  all.  Those  that  want  to  be  safe,  must  hoist  flags. 
That's  all  they  have  to  do.     They  must  hoist  flags." 

Even  while  he  was  speaking  he  seemed,  I  thought,  to  have 
some  faint  idea  that  his  talk  was  incoherent.  Directly  he  had 
said  these  words,  he  lay  down  again  ;  gave  a  kind  of  groan; 
and  covered  his  hot  head  with  the  blankets. 

There  was  another  :  a  young  man,  whose  madness  was 
love  and  music.  After  playing  on  the  accordion  a  march  he 
had  composed,  he  was  very  anxious  that  I  should  walk  into 
his  chamber,  which  I  immediately  did. 

By  way  of  being  very  knowing,  and   humoring  him  to  the 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  73 

top  of  his  bent,  I  went  to  the  window,  which  commanded  a 
beautiful  prospect,  and  remarked,  with  an  address  upon 
which  I  greatly  plumed  myself  : 

What  a  delicious  country  you  have  about  these  lodgings 
of  yours." 

"  Poh  !  "  said  he,  moving  his  fingers  carelessly  over  the 
notes  of  his  instrument  :  "  Well enough  for  such  an  institution 
as  this  !  " 

I  don't  think  I  was  so  taken  aback  in  all  my  life. 

"  I  came  here  just  for  a  whim,"  he  said  coolly.  "  That's 
all." 

"  Oh  !  That's  all,"  said  I. 

"  Yes.  That's  all.  The  doctor's  a  smart  man.  He  quite 
enters  into  it.  It's  a  joke  of  mine.  I  like  it  for  a  time.  You 
needn't  mention  it,  but  I  think  I  shall  go  out  next  Tuesday  !  " 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  consider  our  interview  per- 
fectly confidential ;  and  rejoined  the  doctor.  As  we  were 
passing  through  a  gallery  on  our  way  out,  a  well-dressed  lady 
of  quiet  and  composed  manners,  came  up,  and  proffering  a 
slip  of  paper  and  pen,  begged  that  I  would  oblige  her  with 
an  autograph.     I  complied,  and  we  parted. 

u  I  think  I  remember  having  had  a  few  interviews  like  that 
with  ladies  out  of  doors.     I  hope  she  is  not  mad  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  On  what  subject  ?     Autographs  ?  " 

"  No.     She  hears  voices  in  the  air." 

"  Well  !  "  thought  I,  "  it  would  be  well  if  we  could  shut 
up  a  few  false  prophets  of  these  later  times,  who  have  pro- 
fessed to  do  the  same  ;  and  I  should  like  to  try  the  experi- 
ment on  a  Mormonist  or  two  to  begin  with." 

In  this  place,  there  is  the  best  jail  for  untried  offenders  in 
the  world.  There  is  also  a  very  well-ordered  state-prison, 
arranged  upon  the  same  plan  of  that  at  Boston,  except  that 
here,  there  is  always  a  sentry  on  the  wall  with  a  loaded  gun. 
It  contained  at  that  time  about  two  hundred  prisoners.  A 
spot  was  shown  me  in  the  sleeping  ward,  where  a  watchman 
was  murdered  some  years  since  in  the  dead  of  night,  in  a 
desperate  attempt  to  escape,  made  by  a  prisoner  who  had 
broken  from  his  cell.  A  woman,  too,  was  pointed  out  to  me 
who,  for  the  murder  of  her  husband,  had  been  a  close  pris- 
oner for  sixteen  years. 

"  Do  you  think,"  I  asked  of  my  conductor,  "  that  after  so 
very  long  an  imprisonment,  she  has  any  thought  or  hope  of 
ever  regaining  her  liberty  ?  " 


74  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,"  he  answered.     "  To  be  sure  she  has." 

"  She  has  no  chance  of  obtaining  it,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ; "  which,  by  the  by,  is  a  national 
answer.     "  Her  friends  mistrust  her." 

"  What  have  they  to  do  with  it  ? "  I  naturally  inquired. 

H  Well,  they  won't  petition." 

'•'  But  if  they  did,  they  couldn't  get  her  out,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Well,  not  the  first  time,  perhaps,  nor  yet  the  second,  but 
tiring  and  wearying  for  a  few  years  might  do  it." 

"  Does  that  ever  do  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  that'll  do  it  sometimes.  Political  friends  '11 
do  it  sometimes.  It's  pretty  often  done,  one  way  or  an- 
other." 

I  shall  always  entertain  a  very  pleasant  and  grateful  recol- 
lection of  Hartford.  It  is  a  lovely  place,  and  I  had  many 
friends  there,  whom  I  can  never  remember  with  indifference. 
We  left  it  with  no  little  regret  on  the  evening  of  Friday  the 
nth,  and  traveled  that  night  by  railroad  to  New  Haven. 
Upon  the  way,  the  guard  and  I  were  formally  introduced  to 
each  other  (as  we  usually  were  on  such  occasions),  and  ex- 
changed a  variety  of  small-talk.  We  reached  New  Haven  at 
about  eight  o'clock,  after  a  journey  of  three  hours,  and  put 
up  for  the  night  at  the  best  inn. 

New  Haven,  known  also  as  the  City  of  Elms,  is  a  fine 
town.  Many  of  its  streets  (as  its  alias  sufficiently  imports) 
are  planted  with  rows  of  grand  old  elm-trees  ;  and  the  same 
natural  ornaments  surround  Yale  College,  an  establishment 
of  considerable  eminence  and  reputation.  The  various  de- 
partments of  this  institution  are  erected  in  a  kind  of  park  or 
common  in  the  middle  of  the  town,  where  they  are  dimly 
visible  among  the  shadowing  trees.  The  effect  is  very 
like  that  of  an  old  cathedral  yard  in  England  ;  and  when 
their  branches  are  in  full  leaf,  must  be  extremely  pictur- 
esque. Even  in  the  winter  time,  these  groups  of  well- 
grown  trees,  clustering  among  the  busy  streets  and  houses  of 
a  thriving  city,  have  a  very  quaint  appearance  :  seeming  to 
bring  about  a  kind  of  compromise  between  town  and 
country  ;  as  if  each  had  met  the  other  half-way,  and  shaken 
hands  upon  it ;  which  is  at  once  novel  and  pleasant. 

After  a  night's  rest,  we  rose  early,  and  in  good  time  went 
down  to  the  wharf,  and  on  board  the  packet  New  York  for 
New  York.  This  was  the  first  American  steamboat  of  any 
size  that  I  had  seen  ;  and  certainly  to  an  English  eye  it  wras 
infinitely  less   like  a  steamboat  than  a  huge   floating  bath. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  75 

I  could  hardly  persuade  myself,  indeed,  but  that  the  bathing 
establishment  off  Westminster  Bridge,  which  I  left  a  baby. 
had  suddenly  grown  to  an  enormous  size  ;  run  away  from 
home  ;  and  set  up  in  foreign  parts  as  a  steamer.  Being  in 
America,  too,  which  our  vagabonds  do  so  particularly  favor, 
it  seemed  the  more  probable. 

The  great  difference  in  appearance  between  these  packets 
and  ours  is,  that  there  is  so  much  of  them  out  of  the  water  ; 
the  main-deck  being  inclosed  on  all  sides,  and  filled  with 
casks  and  goods,  like  any  second  or  third  floor  in  a  stack  of 
warehouses  ;  and  the  promenade  or  hurricane-deck  being 
a-top  of  that  again.  A  part  of  the  machinery  is  always  above 
this  deck  ;  where  the  connecting  rod,  in  a  strong  and  lofty 
frame,  is  seen  working  away  like  an  iron  top-sawyer.  There 
is  seldom  any  mast  or  tackle  :  nothing  aloft  but  two  tall 
black  chimneys.  The  man  at  the  helm  is  shut  up  in  a  little 
house  in  the  fore  part  of  the  boat  (the  wheel  being  connected 
with  the  rudder  by  iron  chains,  working  the  whole  length  of 
the  deck)  ;  and  the  passengers,  unless  the  weather  be  very 
fine,  indeed,  usually  congregate  below.  Directly  you  have 
left  the  wharf,  all  the  life  and  stir  and  bustle  of  a  packet 
cease.  You  wonder  for  a  long  time  how  she  goes  on,  for 
there  seems  to  be  nobody  in  charge  of  her  ;  and  when 
another  of  these  dull  machines  comes  splashing  by,  you  feel 
quite  indignant  with  it,  as  a  sullen,  cumbrous,  ungraceful, 
unshiplike  leviathan  :  quite  forgetting  that  the  vessel  you 
are  on  board  of  is  its  very  counterpart. 

There  is  always  a  clerk's  office  on  the  lower  deck,  where 
you  pay  your  fare  ;  a  ladies'  cabin  ;  baggage  and  stowage 
rooms  ;  engineer's  room  ;  and  in  short  a  great  variety  of 
perplexities  which  render  the  discovery  of  the  gentlemen's 
cabin  a  matter  of  some  difficulty.  It  often  occupies  the 
whole  length  of  the  boat  (as  it  did  in  this  case),  and  has 
three  or  four  tiers  of  berths  on  each  side.  When  I  first  de- 
scended into  the  cabin  of  the  New  York  it  looked,  in  my 
unaccustomed  eyes,  about  as  long  as  the  Burlington  Arcade. 

The  Sound  which  has  to  be  crossed  on  this  passage,  is  not 
always  a  very  safe  or  pleasant  navigation,  and  has  been  the 
scene  of  some  unfortunate  accidents.  It  was  a  wet  morning, 
and  very  misty,  and  we  soon  lost  sight  of  land.  The  day 
was  calm,  however,  and  brightened  toward  noon.  After  ex- 
hausting (with  good  Help  from  a  friend)  the  larder,  and  the 
stock  of  bottled  beer,  I  lay  down  to  sleep  :  being  very  much 
tired  with  the  fatigues  of  yesterday.     But  I  woke   from  my 


76  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

nap  in  time  to  hurry  up,  and  see  Hell  Gate,  the  Hog's  Back, 
the  Frying  Pan,  and  other  notorious  localities,  attractive  to 
all  readers  of  famous  Diedrich  Knickerbocker's  History. 
We  were  now  in  a  narrow  channel,  with  sloping  banks  on 
either  side,  besprinkled  with  pleasant  villas,  and  made 
refreshing  to  the  sight  by  turf  and  trees.  Soon  we  shot  in 
quick  succession,  past  a  lighthouse  ;  a  mad-house  (how  the 
lunatics  flung  up  their  caps  and  roared  in  sympathy  with  the 
headlong  engine  and  the  driving  tide  !)  ;  a  jail  ;  and  other 
buildings  :  and  so  emerged  into  a  noble  bay,  whose  waters 
sparkled  in  the  now  cloudless  sunshine  like  nature's  eyes 
turned  up  to  heaven. 

Then  there  lay  stretched  out  before  us,  to  the  right,  con- 
fused heaps  of  buildings,  with  here  and  there  a  spire  or 
steeple,  looking  down  upon  the  herd  below  ;  and  here  and 
there,  again,  a  cloud  of  lazy  smoke  ;  and  in  the  foreground 
a  forest  of  ships'  masts,  cheery  with  flapping  sails  and  wav- 
ing flags.  Crossing  from  among  them  to  the  opposite  shore, 
were  steam  ferry-boats  laden  with  people,  coaches,  horses, 
wagons,  baskets,  boxes  :  crossed  and  recrossed  by  other 
ferry-boats  :  all  traveling  to  and  fro,  and  never  idle.  Stately 
among  these  restless  insects  were  two  or  three  large  ships, 
moving  with  slow  majestic  pace,  as  creatures  of  a  prouder 
kind,  disdainful  of  their  puny  journeys,  and  making  for  the 
broad  sea.  Beyond  were  shining  heights,  and  islands  in  the 
glancing  river,  and  a  distance  scarcely  less  blue  and  bright 
than  the  sky  it  seemed  to  meet.  The  city's  hum  and  buzz,  the 
clinking  of  capstans,  the  ringing  of  bells,  the  barking  of  dogs, 
the  clattering  of  wheels,  tingled  in  the  listening  ear.  All  of 
which  life  and  stir,  coming  across  the  stirring  water,  caught 
new  life  and  animation  from  its  free  companionship  ;  and, 
sympathizing  with  its  buoyant  spirits,  glistened  as  it  seemed 
in  sport  upon  its  surface,  and  hemmed  the  vessel  round,  and 
plashed  the  high  water  about  her  sides,  and,  floating  her 
gallantly  into  the  dock,  flew  off  again  to  welcome  other 
comers,  and  speed  before  them  to  the  busy  port. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  77 

CHAPTER  VI. 

NEW    YORK. 

The  beautiful  metropolis  of  America  is  by  no  means  so 
clean  a  city  as  Boston,  but  many  of  its  streets  have  the  same 
characteristics  ;  except  that  the  houses  are  not  quite  so 
fresh-colored,  the  sign-boards  are  not  quite  so  gaudy,  the 
gilded  letters  not  quite  so  golden,  the  bricks  not  quite  so 
red,  the  stone  not  quite  so  white,  the  blinds  and  area  rail- 
ings not  quite  so  green,  the  knobs  and  plates  upon  the  street 
doors  not  quite  so  bright  and  twinkling.  There  are  many 
by-streets,  almost  as  neutral  in  clean  colors,  and  positive  in 
dirty  ones,  as  by-streets  in  London  ;  and  there  is  one  quar- 
ter, commonly  called  the  Five  Points,  which,  in  respect  of 
filth  rjid  wretchedness,  may  be  safely  backed  against  Seven 
Dials,  or  any  other  part  of  famed  St.  Giles's. 

The  great  promenade  and  thoroughfare,  as  most  people 
know,  is  Broadway  ;  a  wide  and  bustling  street,  which,  from 
the  Battery  Gardens  to  its  opposite  termination  in  a  country 
road,  may  be  four  miles  long.  Shall  we  sit  down  in  an  up- 
per floor  of  the  Carlton  House  Hotel  (situated  in  the  best 
part  of  this  main  artery  of  New  York),  and  when  we  are  tired 
of  looking  down  upon  the  life  below,  sally  forth  arm-in-arm 
and  mingle  with  the  stream  ? 

Warm  weather  !  The  sun  strikes  upon  our  heads  at  this 
open  window  as  though  its  rays  were  concentrated  through 
a  burning-glass  ;  but  the  day  is  in  its  zenith  and  the  season 
an  unusual  one.  Was  there  ever  such  a  sunny  street  as  this 
Broadway  !  The  pavement  stones  are  polished  with  the 
tread  of  feet  until  they  shine  again  ;  the  red  bricks  of  the 
houses  might  be  yet  in  the  dry,  hot  kilns  ;  and  the  roofs  of 
those  omnibuses  look  as  though,  if  water  were  poured  on 
them,  they  would  hiss  and  smoke,  and  smell  lik^  half- 
quenched  fires.  No  stint  of  omnibuses  here  !  Half  a  dozen 
have  gone  by  within  as  many  minutes.  Plenty  of  hackney 
vCabs  and  coaches,  too  ;  gigs,  phaetons,  large-wheeled  til- 
buries, and  private  carriages — rather  of  a  clumsy  make,  and 
not  very  different  from  the  public  vehicles,  but  built  for  the 
heavy  roads  beyond  the  city  pavement.  Negro  coachmen 
and  white  ;  in  straw  hats,  black  hats,  white  hats,  glazed  caps, 
fur  caps  ;  in  coats  of  drab,  blacky  brown,  green,  blue,  nan- 
keen, striped  jeans,  and  linen  ;  and  there  in  that  one  instance 


78  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

(look  while  it  passes,  or  it  will  be  too  late),  in  suits  of  livery. 
Some  southern  republican  that,  who  puts  his  blacks  in  uni- 
form, and  swells  with  sultan  pomp  and  power.  Yonder, 
where  the  phaeton  with  the  well-clipped  pair  of  grays  has 
stopped — standing  at  their  heads  now — is  a  Yorkshire  groom, 
who  has  not  been  very  long  in  these  parts,  and  looks  sor- 
rowfully around  for  a  companion  pair  of  top-boots,  which 
he  may  traverse  the  city  half  a  year  without  meeting. 
Heaven  save  the  ladies,  how  they  dress  !  We  have  seen  more 
colors  in  these  ten  minutes  than  we  should  have  seen  else- 
where in  as  many  days.  What  various  parasols  !  what  rain- 
bow silks  and  satins  !  what  pinking  of  thin  stocking,  and 
pinching  of  thin  shoes,  and  fluttering  of  ribbons  and  silk  tas- 
sels, and  display  of  rich  cloaks  with  gaudy  hoods  and  linings  ! 
The  young  gentlemen  are  fond,  you  see,  of  turning  down 
their  shirt-collars  and  cultivating  their  whiskers,  especially 
under  the  chin  ;  but  they  can  not  approach  the  ladies  in 
their  dress  or  bearing,  being  to  say  the  truth,  humanity  of 
quite  another  sort.  Byrons  of  the  desk  and  counter,  pass 
on,  and  let  us  see  what  kind  of  men  those  are  behind  ye  : 
those  two  laborers  in  holiday  clothes,  of  whom  one  carries 
in  his  hand  a  crumpled  scrap  of  paper  from  which  he  tries 
to  spell  out  a  hard  name,  while  the  other  looks  about  for  it 
on  all  the  doors  and  windows. 

Irishmen  both  !  You  might  know  them,  if  they  were 
masked,  by  their  long-tailed  blue  coats,  and  bright  buttons, 
and  their  drab  trowsers,  which  they  wear  like  men  well  used 
to  working  dresses,  who  are  easy  in  no  others.  It  would  be 
hard  to  keep  your  model  republics  going  without  the  coun- 
trymen and  countrywomen  of  those  two  laborers.  For  who 
else  would  dig,  and  delve,  and  drudge,  and  do  domestic 
work,  and  make  canals  and  roads,  and  execute  great  lines 
of  internal  improvement !  Irishmen  both,  and  sorely  puz- 
zled, too,  to  find  out  what  they  seek.  Let  us  go  down  and 
help  them,  for  the  love  of  home,  and  that  spirit  of  liberty 
which  admits  of  honest  service  to  honest  men,  and  honest 
work  for  honest  bread,  no  matter  what  it  be. 

That's  well !  We  have  got  at  the  right  address  at  last, 
though  it  is  written  in  strange  characters  truly,  and  might 
have  been  scrawled  with  the  blunt  handle  of  the  spade  the 
writer  better  knows  the  use  of,  than  a  pen.  Their  way  lies 
yonder,  but  what  business  takes  them  there  ?  They  carry 
savings  :  to  hoard  up  !  No.  They  are  brothers,  those  men. 
One  crossed  the  sea  alone,  and  working  very  hard  for  one 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  79 

half  year,  and  living  harder,  saved  funds  anough  to  bring  the 
other  out.  That  done,  they  worked  together  side  by  side, 
contentedly  sharing  hard  labor  and  hard  living  for  another 
term,  and  then  their  sisters  came,  and  then  another  brother, 
and,  lastly,  their  old  mother.  And  what  now  ?  Why,  the 
poor  old  crone  is  restless  in  a  strange  land,  and  yearns  to 
lay  her  bones,  she  says,  among  her  people  in  the  old  grave- 
yard at  home  :  and  so  they  go  pay  her  passage  back,  and 
God  help  her  and  them,  and  every  simple  heart,  and  all  who 
turn  to  the  Jerusalem  of  their  younger  days,  and  have  an 
altar-fire  upon  the  cold  hearth  of  their  fathers. 

This  narrow  thoroughfare,  baking  and  blistering  in  the 
sun,  is  Wall  Street ;  the  Stock  Exchange  and  Lombard  Street 
of  New  York.  Many  a  rapid  fortune  has  been  made  in  this 
street,  and  many  a  no  less  rapid  ruin.  Some  of  these  very 
merchants  whom  you  see  hanging  about  here  now,  have 
locked  up  money  in  their  strong-boxes,  like  the  man  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  and  opening  them  again,  have  found  but 
withered  leaves.  Below,  here  by  the  water-side,  where  the 
bowsprit  of  ships  stretch  across  the  footway,  and  almost 
thrust  themselves  into  the  windows,  lie  the  noble  American 
vessels  which  have  made  their  packet  service  the  finest  in  the 
world.  They  have  brought  hither  the  foreigners  who  abound 
in  all  the  streets  ;  not,  perhaps,  that  there  are  more  here 
than  in  other  commercial  cities  ;  but  elsewhere  they  have 
particular  haunts,  and  you  must  find  them  out ;  here,  they 
pervade  the  town. 

We  must  cross  Broadway  again  ;  gaining  some  refresh- 
ment from  the  heat  in  the  sight  of  the  great  blocks  of  clean 
ice  which  are  being  carried  into  shops  and  bar-rooms,  and 
the  pine-apples  and  water-melons  profusely  displayed  for 
sale.  Fine  streets  of  spacious  houses  here,  you  see  !  Wall 
Street  has  furnished  and  dismantled  many  of  them  very 
often — and  here  a  deep  green  leafy  square.  Be  sure  that  it 
is  a  hospitable  house,  with  inmates  to  be  affectionately  re- 
membered always,  where  they  have  the  open  door  and  pretty 
show  of  plants  within,  and  where  the  child  with  laughing 
eyes  is  peeping  out  of  window  at  the  little  dog  below.  You 
wonder  what  may  be  the  use  of  this  tall  flag-staff  in  the  by- 
street, with  something  like  Liberty's  head-dress  on  its  top ; 
so  do  I.  But  there  is  a  passion  for  tall  flag-staffs  hereabout, 
and  you  may  see  its  twin-brother  in  five  minutes,  if  you  have 
a  mind. 

Again  across  Broadway,  and  so — passing  from  the  many- 


8c  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

colored  crowd  and  glittering  shops — into  another  long  main 
street,  the  Bowery.  A  railroad  yonder,  see,  where  two  stout 
horses  trot  along,  drawing  a  score  or  two  of  people  and  a 
great  wooden  ark,  with  ease.  The  stores  are  poorer  here  ; 
the  passengers  less  gay.  Clothes  ready-made,  and  meat 
ready-cooked,  are  to  be  bought  in  these  parts  ;  and  the  lively 
whirl  of  carriages  is  exchanged  for  the  deep  rumble  of  carts 
and  wagons.  These  signs  which  are  so  plentiful,  in  shape 
like  river-buoys  or  small  balloons,  hoisted  by  cords  to  poles, 
and  dangling  there,  announce,  as  you  may  see  by  looking  up, 
"  Oysters  in  every  Style."  They  tempt  the  hungry  most 
at  night,  for  then  dull  candles,  glimmering  inside,  illuminate 
these  dainty  words,  and  make  the  mouths  of  idlers  water  as 
they  read  and  linger. 

What  is  this  dismal-fronted  pile  of  bastard  Egyptian,  like 
an  enchanter's  palace  in  a  melodrama  ! — a  famous  prison, 
called  the  Tombs.     Shall  we  go  in  ? 

So.  A  long,  narrow,  lofty  building,  stove-heated  as  usual, 
with  four  galleries,  one  above  the  other,  going  round  it,  and 
communicating  by  stairs.  Between  the  two  sides  of  each 
gallery,  and  in  its  center,  a  bridge,  for  the  greater  conve- 
nience of  crossing.  On  each  of  these  bridges  sits  a  man  : 
dozing  or  reading,  or  talking  to  an  idle  companion.  On  each 
tier  are  two  opposite  rows  of  small  iron  doors.  They  look 
like  furnace-doors,  but  are  cold  and  black,  as  though  the 
fires  within  had  all  gone  out.  Some  two  or  three  are  open, 
and  women,  with  drooping  heads  bent  down,  are  talking  to 
the  inmates.  The  whole  is  lighted  by  a  skylight,  but  it  is 
fast  closed  ;  and  from  the  roof  there  dangle,  limp  and  droop- 
ing, two  useless  windsails. 

A  man  with  keys  appears,  to  show  us  round.  A  good- 
looking  fellow,  and,  in  his  way,  civil  and  obliging. 

"  Are  those  black  doors  the  cells  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Are  they  all  full?" 

"  Well,  they're  pretty  nigh  full,  and  that's  a  fact,  and  no 
two  ways  about  it." 

"  Those  at  the  bottom  are  unwholesome,  surely  ?  " 

"  Why,  we  do  only  put  ~^ored  people  in  'em.  That's  the 
truth." 

"  When  do  the  prisoner  .ake  exercise  ?" 

"  Well,  they  do  without  it  pretty  much." 

"  Do  they  never  walk  in  the  yard  ?" 

"  Considerable  seldom." 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  Si 

"  Sometimes,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  it's  rare  they  do.  They  keep  pretty  bright  with- 
out it." 

"  But  suppose  a  man  were  here  for  a  twelvemonth.  I 
know  this  is  only  a  prison  for  criminals  who  are  charged 
with  grave  offenses,  while  they  are  awaiting  their  trial,  or 
under  remand,  but  the  law  here  affords  criminals  many  means 
of  delay.  What  with  the  motions  for  new  trials,  and  in  ar- 
rest of  judgment,  and  what  not,  a  prisoner  might  be  here  for 
twelve  months,  I  take  it,  might  he  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  he  might." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  in  all  that  time  he  would  never 
come  out  at  that  little  iron  door,  for  exercise  ?  " 

11  He  might  walk  some,  perhaps — not  much." 

"  Will  you  open  one  of  the  doors  ?" 

"All,  if  you  like." 

The  fastenings  jar  and  rattle,  and  one  of  the  doors  turns 
slowly  on  its  hinges.  Let  us  look  in.  A  small  bare  cell, 
into  which  the  light  enters  through  a  high  chink  in  the 
wall.  There  is  a  rude  means  of  washing,  a  table,  and  a 
bedstead.  Upon  the  latter  sits  a  man  of  sixty  ;  reading. 
He  looks  up  for  a  moment  ;  gives  an  impatient  dogged 
shake  ;  and  fixes  his  eyes  upon  his  book  again.  As  we 
withdraw  our  heads,  the  door  closes  on  him,  and  is  fastened 
as  before.  This  man  has  murdered  his  wife,  and  will  proba- 
bly be  hanged. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  here  ?  " 

"A  month." 

"When  will  he  be  tried?" 

"Next  term." 

"  When  is  that  ?  " 

"  Next  month." 

"  In  England,  if  a  man  be  under  sentence  of  death  even, 
he  has  air  and  exercise  at  certain  periods  of  the  day." 

"  Possible  ?  " 

With  what  stupendous  and  untranslatable  coolness  he 
says  this,  and  how  loungingly  he  leads  on  to  the  women's 
side  :  making,  as  he  goes,  a  kind  of  iron  castanet  of  the  key 
and  the  stair-rail  ! 

Each  cell  door  on  this  side  has  a  square  aperture  in  it. 
Some  of  the  women  peep  anxiously  through  it  at  the  sound 
of  footsteps  ;  others  shrink  away  in  shame.  For  what 
offense  can  that  lonely  child,  of  ten  or  twelve  years 
old,  be  shut  up  here  ?     Oh  !  that  boy  ?     He  is  the  son  of 


62  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  prisoner  we  saw  just  now  ;  is  a  witness  against  his 
father  ;  and  is  detained  here  for  safe  keeping,  until  the 
trial  ;  that's  all. 

But  this  is  a  dreadful  place  for  a  child  to  pass  the  long 
days  and  nights  in.  This  is  rather  hard  treatment  for  a 
young  witness,  is  it  not  ?     What  says  our  conductor  ? 

"  Well,  it  an't  a  very  rowdy  life,  and  thafs  a  fact  !  " 

Again  he  clinks  his  metal  castanet,  and  leads  us  leisurely 
away.     I  have  a  question  to  ask  him  as  we  go. 

"  Pray,  why  do  they  call  this  place  the  Tombs  ? " 

"  Well,  it's  the  cant  name." 

"  I  know  it  is.     Why  ?  " 

"  Some  suicides  happened  here,  when  it  was  first  built.  I 
expect  it  come  about  from  that." 

u  I  saw  just  now  that  a  man's  clothes  were  scattered  about 
the  floor  of  his  cell.  Don't  you  oblige  tne  prisoners  to  be  or- 
derly, and  put  such  things  away  ? " 

"  Where  should  they  put  'em  ?" 

"  Not  on  the  ground  surely.  What  do  you  say  to  hanging 
them  up  ?  " 

He  stops  and  looks  round  to  emphasize  his  answer  : 

"  Why,  I  say  that's  just  it.  When  they  had  hooks  they 
would  hang  themselves,  so  they're  taken  out  of  every  cell, 
and  there's  only  the  marks  left  where  they  used  to  be  !  " 

The  prison-yard  in  which  he  pauses  now,  has  been  the 
scene  of  terrible  performances.  Into  this  narrow  grave-like 
place,  men  are  brought  out  to  die.  The  wretched  creature 
stands  beneath  the  gibbet  on  the  ground  ;  tbe  rope  about  his 
neck  ;  and  when  the  sign  is  given,  a  weight  at  its  other  end 
comes  running  down,  and  swings  him  up  into  the  air — a 
corpse. 

The  law  requires  that  there  be  present  at  this  dismal 
spectacle,  the  judge,  the  jury,  and  citizens  to  the  amount  of 
twenty-five.  From  the  community  it  is  hidden.  To  the  dis- 
solute and  bad,  the  thing  remains  a  frightful  mystery.  Be- 
tween the  criminal  and  them,  the  prison  wall  is  interposed  as 
a  thick  gloomy  veil.  It  is  the  curtain  to  his  bed  of  death, 
his  winding-sheet,  and  grave.  From  him  it  shuts  off  life,  and 
all  the  motives  of  unrepenting  hardihood  in  that  last  hour, 
which  its  mere  sight  and  presence  is  often  all-sufficient  to 
sustain.  There  are  no  bold  eyes  to  make  him  bold;  no  ruffian 
to  uphold  a  ruffian's  name  before.  All  beyond  the  pitiless 
stone  wall  is  unknown  space. 

Let  us  go  forth  again  into  the  cheerful  streets. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  83 

Once  more  in  Broadway  '.  Here  are  the  same  ladies  in 
bright  colors,  walking  to  and  fro,  in  pairs  and  singly  ;  yonder 
the  very  same  light-blue  parasol  which  passed  and  repassed 
the  hotel-window  twenty  times  while  we  were  sitting  there. 
We  are  going  to  cross  here.  Take  care  of  the  pigs.  Two 
portly  sows  are  trotting  up  behind  this  carriage,  and  a  select 
party  of  half  a  dozen  gentlemen  hogs  have  just  now  turned 
the  corner. 

Here  is  a  solitary  swine  lounging  homeward  by  himself. 
He  has  only  one  ear  ;  having  parted  with  the  other  to  va- 
grant-dogs in  the  course  of  his  city  rambles.  But  he  gets  on 
very  well  without  it  ;  and  leads  a  roving,  gentlemanly  vaga- 
bond kind  of  life,  somewhat  answering  to  that  of  our  club- 
men at  home.  He  leaves  his  lodgings  every  morning  at  a 
certain  hour,  throws  himself  upon  the  town,  gets  through  his 
day  in  some  manner  quite  satisfactory  to  himself,  and  regu- 
larly appears  at  the  door  of  his  own  house  again  at  night, 
like  the  mysterious  master  of  Gil  Bias.  He  is  a  free-and- 
easy,  careless,  indifferent  kind  of  pig,  having  a  very  large 
acquaintance  among  other  pigs  of  the  same  character,  whom 
he  rather  knows  by  sight  than  conversation,  as  he  seldom 
troubles  himself  to  stop  and  exchange  civilities,  but  goes 
grunting  down  the  kennel,  turning  up  the  news  and  small- 
talk  of  the  city  in  the  shape  of  cabbage-stalks  and  offal,  and 
bearing  no  tails  but  his  own  :  which  is  a  very  short  one,  for 
his  old  enemies,  the  dogs,  have  been  at  that  too,  and  have 
left  him  hardly  enough  to  swear  by.  He  is  in  every  respect 
a  republican  pig,  going  wherever  he  pleases,  and  mingling 
with  the  best  society,  on  an  equal,  if  not  superior  footing, 
for  every  one  makes  way  when  he  appears,  and  the  haughtiest 
give  him  the  wall,  if  he  prefer  it.  He  is  a  great  philosopher, 
and  seldom  moved,  unless  by  the  dogs  before  mentioned. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  you  may  see  his  small  eye  twinkling  on 
a  slaughtered  friend,  whose  carcass  garnishes  a  butcher's 
door-post,  but  he  grunts  out  "  Such  is  life  :  all  flesh  is 
pork  !  "  buries  his  nose  in  the  mire  again,  and  waddles  down 
the  gutter :  comforting  himself  with  the  reflection  that 
there  is  one  snout  the  less  to  anticipate  stray  cabbage-stalks, 
at  any  rate. 

They  are  the  city  scavengers,  these  pigs.  Ugly  brutes 
they  are  ;  having,  for  the  most  part,  scanty  brown  backs,  like 
the  lids  of  old  horse- hair  trunks  :  spotted  with  unwholesome 
black  blotches.  They  have  long,  gaunt  legs,  too,  and  such 
peaked  snouts,  that  if  one  of  them  could  be  persuaded  to  sit 


54  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

tor  his  profile,  nobody  would  recognize  it  for  a  pig's  likeness. 
They  are  never  attended  upon,  or  fed,  or  driven,  or  caught, 
but  are  thrown  upon  the^r  own  resources  in  early  life,  and 
become  preternaturally  knowing  in  consequence.  Every  pig 
knows  were  he  lives,  much  better  than  any  body  could  tell 
him.  At  this  hour,  just  as  evening  is  closing  in,  you  will  see 
them  roaming  toward  bed  by  scores,  eating  their  way  to  the 
last.  Occasionally,  some  youth  among  them  who  has  over- 
eaten himself,  or  has  been  worried  by  dogs,  trots  shrinkingly 
homeward,  like  a  prodigal  son  ;  but  this  is  a  rare  case  ;  per- 
fect self-possession  and  self-reliance,  and  immovable  com- 
posure, being  their  foremost  attributes. 

The  streets  and  shops  are  lighted  now  ;  and  as  the  eye 
travels  down  the  long  thoroughfare,  dotted  with  bright  jets 
of  gas,  it  is  reminded  of  Oxford  Street,  or  Piccadilly.  Here 
and  there  a  flight  of  broad  stone  cellar-steps  appears,  and  a 
painted  lamp  directs  you  to  the  bowling  saloon,  or  ten-pin 
alley  ;  Ten-pins  being  a  game  of  mingled  chance  and  skill, 
invented  when  the  legislature  passed  an  act  forbidding  nine- 
pins. At  other  downward  nights  of  steps,  are  other  lamps, 
marking  the  whereabouts  of  oyster-cellars — pleasant  retreats, 
say  I :  not  only  by  reason  of  their  wonderful  cookery  of  oys- 
ters, pretty  nigh  as  large  as  cheese-plates  (or  for  thy  dear 
sake,  heartiest  of  Greek  Professors  !)  but  because  of  all 
kinds  of  eaters  of  fish,  or  flesh,  or  fowl,  in  these  latitudes, 
the  swallowers  of  oysters  alone  are  not  gregarious  ;  but, 
subduing  themselves,  as  it  were,  to  the  nature  of  what  they 
work  in,  and  copying  the  coyness  of  the  thing  they  eat,  do 
sit  apart  in  curtained  boxes,  and  consort  by  twos,  not  by 
two  hundreds. 

But  how  quiet  the  streets  are  !  Are  there  no  itinerant 
bands  ;  no  wind  or  stringed  instruments  ?  No,  not  one. 
By  day,  are  there  no  Punches,  fantoccini,  dancing-dogs,  jug- 
glers, conjurers,  orchestrinas,  or  even  barrel-organs  ?  No, 
not  one.  Yes,  I  remember  one.  One  barrel-organ  and  a 
dancing-monkey — sportive  by  nature,  but  fast  fading  into  a 
dull,  lumpish  monkey,  of  the  utilitarian  school.  Beyond 
that,  nothing  lively  ;  no,  not  so  much  as  a  white  mouse  in  a 
twirling  cage. 

Are  there  no  amusements  ?  Yes.  There  is  a  lecture-room 
across  the  way,  from  which  the  glare  of  light  proceeds,  and 
there  may  be  evening  service  for  the  ladies  thrice  a  week,  or 
oftener.  For  the  young  gentlemen,  there  is  the  counting- 
house,  the  store,  the  bar-room  ;    the  latter,  as  you  may  see 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  85 

through  these  windows,  pretty  full.  Hark  !  to  the  clinking 
sound  of  hammers  breaking  lumps  of  ice,  and  to  the  cool 
gurgling  of  the  pounded  bits,  as,  in  the  process  of  mixing, 
they  are  poured  from  glass  to  glass  !  No  amusements  ?  What 
are  these  suckers  of  cigars  and  swallowers  of  strong  drinks,- 
whose  hats  and  legs  we  see  in  every  possible  variety  of  twist, 
doing,  but  amusing  themselves  ?  What  are  the  fifty  news- 
papers, which  those  precocious  urchins  are  bawling  down  the 
street,  and  which  are  kept  filed  within,  what  are  they  but 
amusements  ?  Not  vapid  waterish  amusements,  but  good 
strong  stuff  ;  dealing  in  round  abuse  and  blackguard  names  ; 
pulling  off  the  roofs  of  private  houses,  as  the  Halting  Devil 
did  in  Spain  ;  pimping  and  pandering  for  all  degrees  of  vi- 
cious taste,  and  gorging  with  coined  lies  the  most  voracious 
maw  ;  imputing  to  every  man  in  public  life  the  coarsest  and 
the  vilest  motives  :  scaring  away  from  the  stabbed  and  pros- 
trate body-politic,  every  Samaritan  of  *clear  concience  and 
good  deeds  ;  and  setting  on,  with  yell  and  whistle  and  the 
clapping  of  foul  hands,  the  vilest  vermin  and  worst  birds  of 
prey. — No  amusements  ! 

Let  us  go  on  again  ;  and  passing  this  wilderness  of  an 
hotel  with  stores  about  its  base,  like  some  Continental  thea- 
ter, or  the  London  Opera  House  shorn  of  its  colonnade, 
plunge  into  the  Five  Points.  But  it  is  needful,  first,  that  we 
take  as  our  escort  these  two  heads  of  the  police,  whom  you 
would  know  for  sharp  and  well-trained  officers  if  you  met 
them  in  the  Great  Desert.  So  true  it  is  that  certain  pursuits, 
wherever  carried  on,  will  stamp  men  with  the  same  character. 
These  two  might  have  been  begotten,  born  and  bred  in  Bow 
Street. 

We  have  seen  no  beggars  in  the  streets  by  night  or  day  ; 
but  of  other  kinds  of  strollers,  plenty.  Poverty,  wretched- 
ness, and  vice,  are  rife  enough  where  we  are  going  now. 

This  is  the  place  ;  these  narrow  ways,  diverging  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  reeking  everywhere  with  dirt  and  filth. 
Such  lives  as  are  led  here,  bear  the-  same  fruits  here  as  else- 
where. The  coarse  and  bloated  faces  at  the  doors,  have  coun- 
terparts at  home,  and  all  the  wide  world  over.  Debauchery 
has  made  the  very  houses  prematurely  old.  See  how  the 
rotten  beams  are  tumbling  down,  and  how  the  patched  and 
broken  windows  seem  to  scowl  dimly,  like  eyes  that  have 
been  hurt  in  drunken  frays.  Many  of  those  pigs  live  here. 
Do  they  ever  wonder  why  their  masters  walk  upright  in  lieu  of 
going  on  all-fours  ?     And  why  they  talk  instead  of  grunting  ? 


66  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

So  far  nearly  every  house  is  a  low  tavern  ;  and  on  the 
bar-room  walls  are  colored  prints  of  Washington,  and  Queen 
Victoria  of  England,  and  the  American  Eagle.  Among  the 
pigeon-holes  that  hold  the  bottles,  are  pieces  of  plate-glass 
and  colored  paper,  for  there  is,  in  some  sort,  a  taste  for  dec- 
oration, even  here.  And,  as  seamen  frequent  these  haunts, 
there  are  maritime  pictures  by  the  dozen  ;  of  partings  be- 
tween sailors  and  their  lady-loves,  portraits  of  William,  of  the 
ballad,  and  his  Black-Eyed  Susan  ;  of  Will  Watch  the  Bold 
Smuggler  ;  of  Paul  Jones  the  Pirate,  and  the  like  ;  on  which 
the  painted  eyes  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  of  Washington  to 
boot,  rest  in  as  strange  companionship,  as  on  most  of  the 
scenes  that  are  enacted  in  their  wondering  presence. 

What  place  is  this,  to  which  the  squalid  street  conducts 
us  ?  A  kind  of  square  of  leprous  houses,  some  of  which  are 
attainable  only  by  crazy  wooden  stairs  without.  What  lies 
beyond  this  tottering,flight  of  steps,  that  creak  beneath  our 
tread  ? — a  miserable  room,  lighted  by  one  dim  candle,  and 
destitute  of  all  comfort,  save  that  which  may  be  hidden  in 
a  wretched  bed.  Beside  it,  sits  a  man  ;  his  elbows  on  his 
knees  :  his  forehead  hidden  in  his  hands.  "  What  ails  that 
man  ? "  asks  the  foremost  officer.  "  Fever,"  he  sullenly  re- 
plies, without  lookmg  up.  Conceive  the  fancies  of  a  fevered 
brain  in  such  a  place  as  this. 

Ascend  these  pitch  dark  stairs,  heedful  of  a  false  footing 
on  the  trembling  boards,  and  grope  your  way  with  me  into 
this  wolfish  den,  where  neither  ray  of  light  nor  breath  of  air, 
appears  to  come.  A  negro  lad,  startled  from  his  sleep  by  the 
officer's  voice — he  knows  it  well — but  comforted  by  his  as- 
surance that  he  has  not  come  on  business,  officiously  bestirs 
himself  to  light  a  candle.  The  match  flickers  for  a  moment, 
and  shows  great  mounds  of  dusky  rags  upon  the  ground  ; 
then  dies  away  and  leaves  a  denser  darkness  than  before,  if 
there  can  be  degrees  in  such  extremes.  He  stumbles  down 
the  stairs  and  presently  comes  back,  shading  a  flaring  taper 
with  his  hand.  Then  the  mounds  of  rags  are  seen  to  be  astir, 
and  rise  slowly  up,  and  the  floor  is  covered  with  heaps  of  ne- 
gro women,  waking  from  their  sleep  ;  their  white  teeth  chat- 
tering, and  their  bright  eyes  glistening  and  winking  on  all 
sides  with  surprise  and  fear,  like  the  countless  repetition  of 
one  astonished  African  face  in  some  strange  mirror. 

Mount  up  these  other  stairs  with  no  less  caution  (there 
are  traps  and  pitfalls  here,  for  those  who  are  not  so  well  es- 
corted  as   ourselves)  into  the   housetop  ;  where  the  bare 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  87 

beams  and  rafters  meet  overhead,  and  calm  night  looks 
down  through  the  crevices  in  the  roof.  Open  the  door  of 
one  of  these  cramped  hutches  full  of  sleeping  negroes.  Pah  ! 
They  have  a  charcoal  fire  within  ;  there  is  a  smell  of  singe- 
ing clothes,  or  flesh,  so  close  they  gather  round  the  brazier  ; 
and  vapors  issue  forth  that  blind  and  suffocate.  From 
every  corner,  as  you  glance  about  you  in  these  dark  retreats, 
some  figure  crawls  half-awakened,  as  if  the  judgment-hour 
were  near  at  hand,  and  every  obscene  grave  were  giving  up 
its  dead.  Where  dogs  would  howl  to  lie,  women,  and  men, 
and  boys  slink  off  to  sleep,  forcing  the  dislodged  rats  to 
move  away  in  quest  of  better  lodgings. 

Here  too  are  lanes  and  alleys,  paved  with  mud  knee-deep, 
underground  chambers,  where  they  dance  and  game  ;  the 
walls  bedecked  with  rough  designs  of  ships,  and  forts,  and 
flags,  and  American  eagles  out  of  number  :  ruined  houses, 
open  to  the  street,  whence,  through  wide  gaps  in  the  walls, 
other  ruins  loom  upon  the  eye,  as  though  the  world  of  vice 
and  misery  had  nothing  else  to  show  ;  hideous  tenements 
which  take  their  name  from  robbery  and  murder  ;  all  that 
is  loathsome,  drooping,  and  decayed  is  here. 

Our  leader  has  his  hand  upon  the  latch  of  "  Almack's," 
and  calls  to  us  from  the  bottom  of  the  steps  ;  for  the  assem- 
bly-room of  the  Five  Point  fashionables  is  approached  by  a 
descent.     Shall  we  go  in  ?     It  is  but  a  moment. 

Heyday  !  the  landlady  of  Almack's  thrives  !  A  buxom 
fat  mulatto  woman,  with  sparkling  eyes,  whose  head  is  dain- 
tily ornamented  with  a  handkerchief  of  many  colors.  Nor 
is  the  landlord  much  behind  her  in  his  finery,  being  attired 
in  a  smart  blue  jacket,  like  a  ship's  steward,  with  a  thick  gold 
ring  upon  his  little  finger,  and  round  his  neck  a  gleaming 
golden  watch-guard.  How  glad  he  is  to  see  us  !  What  will 
we  please  to  call  for  ?  A  dance  ?  It  shall  be  done  directly, 
sir  :  "  A  regular  break-down." 

The  corpulent  black  fiddler,  and  his  friend  who  plays  the 
tambourine,  stamp  upon  the  boarding  of  the  small  raised 
orchestra  in  which  they  sit,  and  play  a  lively  measure.  Five 
or  six  couple  come  upon  the  floor,  marshaled  by  a  lively 
young  negro,  who  is  the  wit  of  the  assembly,  and  the  greatest 
dancer  known.  He  never  leaves  off  making  queer  faces,  and 
is  the  delight  of  all  the  rest,  who  grin  from  ear  to  ear  in- 
cessantly. Among  the  dancers  are  two  young  mulatto  girls, 
with  large  black,  drooping  eyes,  and  head-gear  after  the 
fashion  of  the  hostess,  who  are  as  shy,  or  feign  to  be,  as 


88  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

though  they  never  danced  before,  and  so  look  down  before 
the  visitors,  that  their  partners  can  see  nothing  but  the  long 
fringed  lashes. 

But  the  dance  commences.  Every  gentleman  sets  as  long 
as  he  likes  to  the  opposite  lady,  and  the  opposite  lady  to  him, 
and  all  are  so  long  about  it  that  the  sport  begins  to  languish, 
when  suddenly  the  lively  hero  dashes  into  the  rescue.  In- 
stantly the  fiddler  grins,  and  goes  at  it  tooth  and  nail  ;  there 
is  new  energy  in  the  tambourines  ;  new  laughter  in  the 
dancers  ;  new  smiles  in  the  landlady  ;  new  confidence  in 
the  landlord  ;  new  brightness  in  the  very  candles.  Single 
shuffle,  double  shuffle,  cut  and  cross-cut ;  snapping  his 
fingers,  rolling  his  eyes,  turning  in  his  knees,  presenting  the 
backs  of  his  legs  in  front,  spinning  about  on  his  toes  and 
heels  like  nothing  but  the  man's  fingers  on  the  tambourine  ; 
dancing  with  two  left  legs,  two  right  legs,  two  wooden  legs, 
two  wire  legs,  two  spring  legs — all  sorts  of  legs  and  no  legs 
— what  is  this  to  him  ?  And  in  what  walk  of  life,  or  dance 
of  life,  does  man  ever  get  such  stimulating  applause  as 
thunders  about  him,  when,  having  danced  his  partner  off 
her  feet,  and  himself  too,  he  finishes  by  leaping  gloriously 
on  the  bar-counter,  and  calling  for  something  to  drink,  with 
the  chuckle  of  a  million  of  counterfeit  Jim  Crows,  of  one 
inimitable  sound  ! 

The  air,  even  in  these  distempered  parts,  is  fresh  after 
the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  houses  ;  and  now,  as  we 
emerge  into  a  broader  street,  it  blows  upon  us  with  a  purer 
breath,  and  the  stars  look  bright  again.  Here  are  the  Tombs 
once  more.  The  city  watch-house  is  a  part  of  the  building. 
It  follows  naturally  on  the  sights  we  have  just  left.  Let  us 
see  that,  and  then  to  bed. 

What  !  do  you  thrust  your  common  offenders  against  the 
police  discipline  of  the  town,  into  such  holes  as  these  ?  Do 
men  and  women,  against  whom  no  crime  is  proved,  lie  here 
all  night  in  perfect  darkness,  surrounded  by  the  noisome  va- 
pors which  encircle  that  flagging  lamp  you  light  us  with,  and 
breathing  this  filthy  and  offensive  stench  !  Why,  such  inde- 
cent and  disgusting  dungeons  as  these  cells  would  bring 
disgrace  upon  the  most  despotic  empire  in  the  world  !  Look 
at  them,  man — you,  who  see  them  every  night,  and  keep  the 
keys.  Do  you  see  what  they  are  ?  Do  you  know  how  drains 
are  made  below  the  streets,  and  wherein  these  human  sewers 
differ,  except  in  being  always  stagnant  ? 

Well,  he  don't  know.     He  has  had  five-and-twenty  young 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  89 

women  locked  up  in  this 'very  ceii  at  one  time,  and  you'd 
hardly  realize  what  handsome  faces  there  were  among  'em. 

In  God's  name  !  shut  the  door  upon  the  wretched  creature 
who  is  in  it  now,  and  put  its  screen  before  a  place,  quite  un- 
surpassed in  all  the  vice,  neglect,  and  devilry,  of  the  worst 
old  town  in  Europe. 

Are  people  really  left  all  night,  untried,  in  those  black 
sties  ? — Every  night.  The  watch  is  set  at  seven  in  the  even- 
ing. The  magistrate  opens  his  court  at  five  in  the  morning, 
That  is  the  earliest  hour  at  which  the  first  prisoner  can  be 
released  ;  and  if  an  officer  appear  against  him,  he  is  not  taken 
out  till  nine  o'clock  or  ten. — But  if  any  one  among  them  die 
in  the  interval,  as  one  man  did,  not  long  ago  ?  Then  he  is 
half-eaten  by  the  rats  in  an  hour's  time  ;  as  that  man  was  ; 
and  there  an  end. 

What  is  this  intolerable  tolling  of  great  bells,  and  crashing 
of  wheels,  and  shouting  in  the  distance  ?  Afire.  And  what 
that  deep  red  light  in  the  opposite  direction  ?  Another  fire. 
And  what  these  charred  and  blackened  walls  we  stand  be- 
fore ?  A  dwelling  where  a  fire  has  been.  It  was  more  than 
hinted,  in  an  official  report,  not  long  ago,  that  some  of  these 
conflagrations  were  not  wholly  accidental,  and  that  specula- 
tion and  enterprise  found  a  field  of  exertion,  even  in  flames  : 
but  be  this  as  it  may,  there  was  a  fire  last  night,  there  are 
two  to-night,  and  you  may  lay  an  even  wager  there  will  be 
at  least  one  to-morrow.  So,  carrying  that  with  us  for  our 
comfort,  let  us  say  good-night,  and  climb  up-stairs  to  bed. 

One  day,  during  my  stay  in  New  York,  I  paid  a  visit  to 
the  different  public  institutions  on  Long  Island,  or  Rhode 
Island  ;  I  forget  which.  One  of  them  is  a  lunatic  asylum. 
The  building  is  handsome  ;  and  is  remarkable  for  a  spacious 
and  elegant  staircase.  The  whole  structure  is  not  yet  fin- 
ished, but  it  is  already  one  of  considerable  size  and  extent, 
and  is  capable  of  accommodating  a  very  large  number  of 
patients. 

I  can  not  say  that  I  derived  much  comfort  from  the  inspec- 
tion of  this  charity.  The  different  wards  might  have  been 
cleaner  and  better  ordered  ;  I  saw  nothing  of  that  salutary 
system  which  had  impressed  me  so  favorably  elsewhere  ;  and 
every  thing  had  a  lounging,  listless,  mad-house  air,  which  was 
very  painful.  The  moping  idiot,  cowering  down  with  long 
disheveled  hair  ;  the  gibbering  maniac,  with  his  hideous 
laugh  and  pointed  finger  ;  the  vacant  eye,  the  fierce  wild 


9°  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

face,  the  gloomy  picking  of  the  hands  and  lips,  and  munch" 
ing  of  the  nails  ;  there  they  were  all,  without  disguise,  in 
naked  ugliness  and  horror.  In  the  dining-room,  a  bare, 
dull,  dreary  place,  and  nothing  for  the  eyes  to  rest  on  but 
the  empty  walls,  a  woman  was  locked  up  alone.  She  was 
bent,  they  told  me,  on  committing  suicide.  If  any  thing 
could  have  strengthened  her  in  her  resolution,  it  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  the  insupportable  monotony  ©f  such  an  ex- 
istence. 

The  terrible  crowd  with  which  these  halls  and  galleries 
were  filled,  so  shocked  me,  that  I  abridged  my  stay  within 
the  shortest  limits,  and  declined  to  see  that  portion  of  the 
building  in  which  the  refractory  and  violent  were  under 
closer  restraint.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  gentleman  who 
presided  over  this  establishment  at  the  time  I  write  of,  was 
competent  to  manage  it,  and  had  done  all  in  his  power  to 
promote  its  usefulness  ;  but  will  it  be  believed  that  the  mis- 
erable strife  of  party  feeling  is  carried  even  into  this  sad 
refuge  of  afflicted  and  degraded  humanity  ?  Will  it  be  be- 
lieved that  the  eyes  which  are  to  watch  over  and  control  the 
wanderings  of  minds  on  which  the  most  dreadful  visitation 
to  which  our  nature  is  exposed  has  fallen,  must  wear  the 
glasses  of  some  wretched  side  in  politics  ?  Will  it  be  believed 
that  the  governor  of  such  a  house  as  this,  is  appointed,  and 
deposed,  and  changed  perpetually,  as  parties  fluctuate  and 
vary,  and  as  their  despicable  weather-cocks  are  blown  this 
way  or  that  ?  A  hundred  times  in  every  week,  some  new 
most  paltry  exhibition  of  that  narrow-minded  and  injurious 
party  spirit,  which  is  the  simoom  of  America,  sickening  and 
blighting  every  thing  of  wholesome  life  within  its  reach,  was 
forced  upon  my  notice  ;  but  I  never  turned  my  back  upon  it 
with  feelings  of  such  deep  disgust  and  measureless  contempt, 
as  when  I  crossed  the  threshold  of  this  mad-house. 

At  a  short  distance  from  this  building  is  another  called 
the  Alms  house,  that  is  to  say,  the  work-house  of  New  York. 
This  is  a  large  institution  also  ;  lodging,  I  believe,  when  I 
was  there,  nearly  a  thousand  poor.  It  was  badly  ventilated, 
and  badly  lighted  ;  was  not  too  clean  ;  and  impressed  me,  on 
the  whole,  very  uncomfortably.  But  it  must  be  remembered 
that  New  York,  as  a  great  emporium  of  commerce,  and  as  a 
place  of  general  resort,  not  only  from  all  parts  of  the  States, 
but  from  most  parts  of  the  world,  has  always  a  large  pauper 
population  to  provide  for  ;  and  labors,  therefore,  under  pecu- 
liar difficulties  in  this  respect.     Nor  must  it  be  forgotten 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  9r 

that  New  York  is  a  large  town,  and  that  in  all  large  town*  a 
vast  amount  of  good  and  evil  is  intermixed  and  jumbled  up 
together. 

In  the  same  neighborhood  is  the  Farm,  where  young  or- 
phans are  nursed  and  bred.  I  did  not  see  it,  but  I  believe  it 
is  well  conducted  ;  and  I  can  the  more  easily  credit  it,  from 
knowing  how  mindful  they  usually  are,  in  America,  of  that 
beautiful  passage  in  the  Litany  which  remembers  all  sick 
persons  and  young  children. 

I  was  taken  to  these  institutions  by  water,  in  a  boat  be- 
longing to  the  Island  Jail,  and  rowed  by  a  crew  of  prisoners, 
who  were  dressed  in  a  striped  uniform  of  black  and  buff,  in 
which  they  looked  like  faded  tigers.  They  took  me,  by  the 
same  conveyance,  to  the  jail  itself. 

It  is  an  old  prison,  and  quite  a  pioneer  establishment,  on 
the  plan  I  have  already  described.  I  was  glad  to  hear  this, 
for  it  is  unquestionably  a  very  indifferent  one.  The  most  is 
made,  however,  of  the  means  it  possesses,  and  it  is  as  well 
regulated  as  such  a  place  can  be. 

The  women  work  in  covered  sheds  erected  for  that  pur- 
pose. If  I  remember  right,  there  are  no  shops  for  the  men  ; 
but  be  that  as  it  may,  the  greater  part  of  them  labor  in  cer- 
tain stone-quarries  near  at  hand.  The  day  being  very  wet 
indeed,  this  labor  was  suspended,  and  the  prisoners  were  in 
their  cells.  Imagine  these  cells,  some  two  or  three  hundred 
in  number,  and  in  every  one  a  man  locked  up  ;  this  one  at 
his  door  for  air,  with  his  hands  thrust  through  the  grate  ; 
this  one  in  bed  (in  the  middle  of  the  day,  remember)  ;  and 
this  one  flung  down  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground,  with  his 
head  against  the  bars,  like  a  wild  beast.  Make  the  rain  pour 
down,  outside,  in  torrents.  Put  the  everlasting  stove  in  the 
midst  ;  hot,  and  suffocating,  and  vaporous  as  a  witch's  cal- 
dron. Add  a  collection  of  gentle  odors,  such  as  would  arise 
from  a  thousand  mildewed  umbrellas,  wet  through,  and  a 
thousand  buck-baskets,  full  of  half-washed  linen — and 
there  is  the  prison,  as  it  was  that  day. 

The  prison  for  the  state  at  Sing  Sing,  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  model  jail.  That,  and  Auburn  are,  I  believe,  the  largest 
and  best  examples  of  the  silent  system. 

In  another  part  of  the  city,  is  the  Refuge  for  the  Desti- 
tute ;  an  institution  whose  object  is  to  reclaim  youthful 
offenders,  male  and  female,  black  and  white,  without  dis- 
tinction ;  to  teach  them  useful  trades,  apprentice  them  to 
respectable   masters,   and  make  them  worthy  members  of 


92  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

society.  lis  design,  it  will  be  seen,  is  similar  to  that  at  Bos- 
ton ;  and  it  is  a  no  less  meritorious  and  admirable  establish- 
ment. A  suspicion  crossed  my  mind,  during  my  inspection 
of  this  noble  charity,  whether  the  superintendent  had  quite 
sufficient  knowledge  of  the  world  and  worldly  characters  ; 
and  whether  he  did  not  commit  a  great  mistake  in  treating 
some  young  girls,  who  were  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  by 
their  years  and  their  past  lives,  women,  as  though  they  were 
little  children  ;  which  certainly  had  a  ludicrous  effect  in  my 
eyes,  and,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,  in  theirs  also.  As  the 
institution,  however,  is  always  under  the  vigilant  examina- 
tion of  a  body  of  gentlemen  of  great  intelligence  and  experi- 
ence, it  can  not  fail  to  be  well  conducted  ;  and  whether  I  am 
right  or  wrong  in  this  slight  particular,  is  unimportant  to  its 
deserts  and  character,  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  estimate 
too  highly. 

In  addition  to  these  establishments,  there  are  in  New 
York,  excellent  hospitals  and  schools,  literary  institutions  and 
libraries  ;  an  admirable  fire  department  (as  indeed  it  should 
be,  having  constant  practice),  and  charities  of  every  sort  and 
kind.  In  the  suburbs  there  is  a  spacious  cemetery  ;  unfin- 
ished yet,  but  every  day  improving.  The  saddest  tomb  that 
I  saw  there  was  "  The  Strangers'  Grave.  Dedicated  to  the 
different  hotels  in  the  city." 

There  are  three  principal  theaters.  Two  of  them,  the 
Park  and  the  Bowery,  are  large,  elegant,  and  handsome 
buildings,  and  are,  I  grieve  to  write  it,  generally  deserted. 
The  third,  the  Olympic,  is  a  tiny  show-box  for  vaudevilles 
and  burlesques.  It  is  singularly  well  conducted  by  Mr. 
Mitchell,  a  comic  actor  of  great  quiet  humor  and  origi- 
nality, who  is  well  remembered  and  esteemed  by  play-goers. 
I  am  happy  to  report  of  this  deserving  gentleman,  that  his 
benches  are  usually  well  filled,  and  that  his  theater  rings 
with  merriment  every  night.  I  had  almost  forgotten  a  small 
summer  theater,  called  Niblo's,  with  gardens  and  open-air 
amusements  attached  ;  but  I  believe  it  is  not  exempt  from 
the  general  depression  under  which  theatrical  property,  or 
what  is  humorously  called  by  that  name,  unfortunately 
labors. 

The  country  round  New  York  is  surpassingly  and  ex- 
quisitely picturesque.  The  climate,  as  I  have  already  in- 
timated, is  somewhat  of  the  warmest.  What  it  would  be. 
without  the  sea-breezes  which  come  from  its  beautiful  bay 
in  the  evening  time,  I  will  not  throw  myself  or  my  readers 
into  a  fever  by  inquiring. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  93 

The  tone  of  the  best  society  in  this  city,  is  like  that  ot 
Boston  ;  here  and  there,  it  may  be,  with  a  greater  infusion 
of  the  mercantile  spirit,  but  generally  polished  and  refined, 
and  always  most  hospitable.  The  houses  and  tables  are 
elegant  ;  the  hours  later  and  more  rakish  ;  and  there  is, 
perhaps,  a  greater  spirit  of  contention  in  reference  to  ap- 
pearances, and  the  display  of  wealth  and  costly  living. 
The  ladies  are  singularly  beautiful. 

Before  I  left  New  York  I  made  arrangements  for  secur- 
ing a  passage  home  in  the  George  Washington  packet-ship, 
which  was  advertised  to  sail  in  June  :  that  being  the  month 
in  which  I  had  determined,  if  prevented  by  no  accident  in 
the  course  of  my  ramblings,  to  leave  America. 

I  never  thought  that,  going  back  to  England,  returning  to 
all  who  are  dear  to  me,  and  to  pursuits  that  have  insensibly 
grown  to  be  a  part  of  my  nature,  I  could  have  felt  so  much 
sorrow  as  I  endured,  when  I  parted  at  last,  on  board  this 
ship,  with  the  friends  who  had  accompanied  me  from  this 
city.  I  never  thought  the  name  of  any  place,  so  far  away 
and  so  lately  known,  could  ever  associate  itself  in  my  mind 
with  the  crowd  of  affectionate  remembrances  that  now  clus- 
ter about  it.  There  are  those  in  this  city  who  would 
brighten,  to  me,  the  darkest  winter-day  that  ever  glimmered 
and  went  out  in  Lapland  ;  and  before  whose  presence  even 
home  grew  dim,  when  they  and  I  exchanged  that  painful 
word  which  mingles  with  our  every  thought  and  deed  ; 
which  haunts  our  cradle-heads  in  infancy,  and  closes  up  the 
vista  of  our  lives  in  age. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

PHILADELPHIA,    AND    ITS   SOLITARY   PRISON. 

The  journey  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  is  made  by 
railroad,  and  two  ferries  ;  and  usually  occupies  between 
five  and  six  hours.  It  was  a  fine  evening  when  we  were 
passengers  in  the  train  :  and,  watching  the  bright  sunset  from 
a  little  window  near  the  door  by  which  we  sat,  my  attention 
was  attracted  to  a  remarkable  appearance  issuing  from  the 
windows  of  the  gentlemen's  car  immediately  in  front  of  us, 
which  I  supposed  for  some  time  was  occasioned  by  a  number 
of  industrious  persons  inside,  ripping  open  feather-beds,  and 
giving  the  feathers  to  the  wind.     At  length  it  occurred  to 


94  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

me  that  they  were  only  spitting,  which  was  indeed  the  case ; 
though  how  any  number  of  passengers  which  it  was  possible 
for  that  car  to  contain,  could  have  maintained  such  a  playful 
and  incessant  shower  of  expectoration,  I  am  still  at  a  loss  to 
understand,  notwithstanding  the  experience  in  all  salivatory 
phenomena  which  I  afterward  acquired. 

I  made  acquaintance,  on  this  journey,  with  a  mild  and 
modest  young  Quaker,  who  opened  the  discourse  by  inform- 
ing me,  in  a  grave  whisper,  that  his  grandfather  was  the  in- 
ventor of  cold-  drawn  castor  oil.  I  mention  the  circumstance 
here,  thinking  it  probable  that  this  is  the  first  occasion  on 
which  the  valuable  medicine  in  question  was  ever  used  as  a 
conversational  aperient. 

We  reached  the  city  late  that  night.  Looking  out  of  my 
chamber-window,  before  going  to  bed,  I  saw,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  way,  a  handsome  building  of  white  marble,  which 
had  a  mournful  ghost-like  aspect,  dreary  to  behold.  I 
attributed  this  to  the  somber  influence  of  the  night,  and  on 
rising  in  the  morning  looked  out  again,  expecting  to  see  its 
steps  and  portico  thronged  with  groups  of  people  passing  in 
and  out.  The  door  was  still  tight  shut,  however ;  the  same 
cold,  cheerless  air  prevailed  ;  and  the  building  looked  as  if 
the  marble  statue  of  Don  Guzman  could  alone  have  any 
business  to  transact  within  its  gloomy  walls.  I  hastened  to 
inquire  it's  name  and  purpose,  and  then  my  surprise 
vanished.  It  was  the  tomb  of  many  fortunes  ;  the  great 
catacomb  of  investment ;  the  memorable  United  States 
Bank. 

The  stoppage  of  this  bank,  with  all  its  ruinous  consequences, 
had  cast  (as  I  was  told  on  every  side)  a  gloom  on  Philadel- 
phia, under  the  depressing  effect  of  which  it  yet  labored.  It 
certainly  did  seem  rather  dull  and  out  of  spirits. 

It  is  a  handsome  city,  but  distractingly  regular.  After 
walking  about  it  for  an  hour  or  two,  I  felt  that  I  would 
have  given  the  world  for  a  crooked  street.  The  collar  of 
my  coat  appeared  to  stiffen,  and  the  brim  of  my  hat  to 
expand,  beneath  its  Quakery  influence.  My  hair  shrunk 
into  a  sleek  short  crop,  my  hands  folded  themselves  upon 
my  breast  of  their  own  calm  accord,  and  thoughts  of  taking 
lodgings  in  Mark  Lane  over  against  the  Market  Place,  and 
of  making  a  large  fortune  by  speculations  in  corn,  came  over 
me  involuntarily. 

Philadelphia  is  most  bountifully  provided  with  fresh  water, 
which  is  showered  and  jerked  about,  and  turned  on,  and 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  95 

poured  off,  everywhere.  The  waterworks,  which  are  on  a 
height  near  the  city,  are  no  less  ornamental  than  useful, 
being  tastefully  laid  out  as  a  public  garden,  and  kept  in  the 
best  and  neatest  order.  The  river  is  dammed  at  this  point, 
and  forced  by  its  own  power  into  certain  high  tanks  or 
reservoirs,  whence  the  whole  city,  to  the  top  stories  of  the 
houses,  is  supplied  at  a  very  trifling  expense. 

There  are  various  public  institutions.  Among  them  a 
most  excellent  hospital — a  Quaker  establishment,  but  not 
sectarian  in  the  great  benefits  it  confers  ;  a  quiet,  quaint 
old  library,  named  after  Franklin  ;  a  handsome  Exchange 
and  Post-office  ;  and  so  forth.  In  connection  with  the 
Quaker  Hospital,  there  is  a  picture  by  West,  which  is  exhib- 
ited for  the  benefit  of  the  funds  of  the  institution.  The 
subject  is,  Our  Saviour  Healing  the  Sick,  and  it  is,  perhaps, 
as  favorable  a  specimen  of  the  master  as  can  be  seen  any- 
where. Whether  this  be  high  or  low  praise,  depends  upon 
the  reader's  taste. 

In  the  same  room  there  is  a  very  characteristic  and  life- 
like portrait  by  Mr.  Sully,  a  distinguished  American  artist. 

My  stay  in  Philadelphia  was  very  short,  but  what  I  saw  of 
its  society  I  greatly  liked.  Treating  of  its  general  charac- 
teristics, I  should  be  disposed  to  say  that  it  is  more  pro- 
vincial than  Boston  or  New  York,  and  that  there  is  afloat  in 
the  fair  city  an  assumption  of  taste  and  criticism,  savoring 
rather  of  those  genteel  discussions  upon  the  same  themes, 
in  connection  with  Shakespeare  and  the  Musical  Glasses,  of 
which  we  read  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Near  the  city 
is  a  most  splendid  unfinished  marble  structure  for  the  Gi- 
rard  College,  founded  by  a  deceased  gentleman  of  that  name 
and  of  enormous  wealth,  which,  if  completed  according  to 
the  original  design,  will  be  perhaps  the  richest  edifice  of 
modern  times.  But  the  bequest  is  involved  in  legal  dis- 
putes, and  pending  them  the  work  has  stopped  ;  so  that, 
like  many  other  great  undertakings  in  America,  even  this  is 
rather  going  to  be  done  one  of  these  days,  than  doing  now. 

In  the  outskirts  stands  a  great  prison,  called  the  Eastern 
Penitentiary  :  conducted  on  a  plan  peculiar  to  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  system  here,  is  rigid,  strict,  and  hope- 
less solitary  confinement.  I  believe  it,  in  its  effects,  to  be 
cruel  and  wrong. 

In  its  intention,  I  am  well  convinced  that  it  is  kind,  humane, 
and  meant  for  reformation  ;  but  I  am  persuaded  that  those 
who  devised    this    system  of   prison  discipline,  arid  those 


96  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

benevolent  gentlemen  who  carry  it  into  execution,  do  not 
know  what  it  is  that  they  are  doing.  I  believe  that  very 
few  men  are  capable  of  estimating  the  immense  amount  of 
torture  and  agony  which  this  dreadful  punishment,  pro- 
longed for  years,  inflicts  upon  the  sufferers  ;  and  in  guess- 
ing at  it  myself,  and  in  reasoning  from  what  I  have  seen 
written  upon  their  faces,  and  what  to  my  certain  knowledge 
they  feel  within,  I  am  only  the  more  convinced  that  there 
is  a  depth  of  terrible  endurance  in  it  which  none  but  the 
sufferers  themselves  can  fathom,  and  which  no  man  has  a 
right  to  inflict  upon  his  fellow-creature.  I  hold  this  slow 
and  daily  tampering  with  the  mysteries  of  the  brain,  to  be 
immeasurably  worse  than  any  torture  of  the  body  :  and 
because  its  ghastly  signs  and  tokens  are  not  so  palpable  to 
the  eye  and  sense  of  touch  as  scars  upon  the  flesh  ;  because 
its  wounds  are  not  upon  the  surface,  and  it  extorts  few  cries 
that  human  ears  can  hear  ;  therefore  I  the  more  denounce 
it,  as  a  secret  punishment  which  slumbering  humanity  is 
not  roused  up  to  stay.  I  hesitated  once,  debating  with 
myself,  whether,  if  I  had  the  power  of  saying  "  Yes "  or 
"No,"  I  would  allow  it  to  be  tried  in  certain  cases,  where 
the  terms  of  imprisonment  were  short ;  but  now,  I  solemnly 
declare,  that  with  no  rewards  or  honors  could  I  walk  a 
happy  man  beneath  the  open  sky  by  day,  or  lie  me  down 
upon  my  bed  at  night,  with  the  consciousness  that  one 
human  creature,  for  any  length-of  time,  no  matter  what,  lay 
suffering  this  unknown  punishment  in  his  silent  cell,  and  I 
the  cause,  or  I  consenting  to  it  in  the  least  degree. 

I  was  accompanied  to  this  prison  by  two  gentlemen 
officially  connected  with  its  management,  and  passed  the 
day  in  going  from  cell  to  cell,  and  talking  with  the  inmates. 
Every  facility  was  afforded  me,  that  the  utmost  courtesy 
could  suggest.  Nothing  was  concealed  or  hidden  from  my 
view,  and  every  piece  of  information  that  I  sought  was 
openly  and  frankly  given.  The  perfect  order  of  the  build- 
ing can  not  be  praised  too  highly,  and  of  the  excellent 
motives  of  all  who  are  immediately  concerned  in  the  admin- 
istration of  the  system,  there  can  be  no  kind  of  question. 

Between  the  body  of  the  prison  and  the  outer  wall,  there 
is  a  spacious  garden.  Entering  it,  by  a  wicket  in  the  mas- 
sive gate,  we  pursued  the  path  before  us  to  its  other  termi- 
nation, and  passed  into  a  large  chamber,  from  which  seven 
long  passages  radiate.  On  either  side  of  each  is  a  long, 
long  row  of  low  cell  doors,  with  a  certain  number  over  every 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  97 

one.  Above,  a  gallery  of  cells  like  those  below,  except 
that  they  have  no  narrow  yard  attached  (as  those  in  the 
ground  tier  have),  and  are  somewhat  smaller.  The  pos- 
session of  two  of  these,  is  supposed  to  compensate  for  the 
absence  of  so  much  air  and  exercise  as  can  be  had  in  the 
dull  strip  attached  to  each  of  the  others,  in  an  hour's 
time  every  day ;  and  therefore  every  prisoner  in  this 
upper  story  has  two  cells,  adjoining  and  communicating 
with  each  other. 

Standing  at  the  central  point,  and  looking  down  these 
dreary  passages,  the  dull  repose  and  quiet  that  prevails  is 
awful.  Occasionally,  there  is  a  drowsy  sound  from  some 
lone  weaver's  shuttle,  or  shoemaker's  last,  but  it  is  stifled 
by  the  thick  walls  and  heavy  dungeon-door,  and  only  serves 
to  make  the  general  stillness  more  profound.  Over  the 
head  and  face  of  every  prisoner  who  comes  into  this  mel- 
ancholy house  a  black  hood  is  drawn  ;  and  in  this  dark 
shroud,  an  emblem  of  the  curtain  dropped  between  him  and 
the  living  world,  he  is  led  to  the  cell  from  which  he  never 
again  comes  forth,  until  his  whole  term  of  imprisonment  has 
expired.  He  never  hears  of  wife  and  children  ;  home  or 
friends  ;  the  life  or  death  of  any  single  creature.  He  sees 
the  prison-officers,  but  with  that  exception  he  never  looks 
upon  a  human  countenance,  or  hears  a  human  voice.  He 
is  a  man  buried  alive  ;  to  be  dug  out  in  the  slow  round 
of  years  ;  and  in  the  meantime  dead  to  every  thing  but 
torturing  anxieties  and  horrible  despair. 

His  name,  and  crime,  and  term  of  suffering,  are  unknown, 
even  to  the  officer  who  delivers  him  his  daily  food.  There 
is  a  number  over  his  cell-door,  and  in  a  book  of  which  the 
governor  of  the  prison  has  one  copy,  and  the  moral  instruc- 
tor another  ;  this  is  the  index  of  his  history.  Beyond  these 
pages  the  prison  has  no  record  of  his  existence  :  and  though 
he  lives  to  be  in  the  same  cell  ten  weary  years,  he  has  no 
means'of  knowing,  down  to  the  very  last  hour,  in  what  part 
of  the  building  it  is  situated  ;  what  kind  of  men  there  are 
about  him  ;  whether  in  the  long  winter  nights  there  are  liv- 
ing people  near,  or  he  is  in  some  lonely  corner  of  the  great 
jail,  with  walls,  and  passages,  and  iron  doors  between  him 
and  the  nearest  sharer  in  its  solitary  horrors. 

Every  cell  has  double  doors  ;  the  outer  one  of  sturdy 
oak,  the  other  of  grated  iron,  wherein  there  is  a  trap  through 
which  his  food  is  handed.  He  has  a  Bible,  and  a  slate  and 
pencil,  and,  under  certain  restrictions,  has  sometimes  other 


98  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

books,  provided  for  the  purpose,  and  pen  and  ink  and  paper. 
His  razor,  plate,  and  can,  and  basin,  hang  upon  the  wall,  or 
shine  upon  the  little  shelf.  Fresh  water  is  laid  on  in  every 
cell,  and  he  can  draw  it  at  his  pleasure.  During  the  day, 
his  bedstead  turns  up  against  the  wall,  and  leaves  more  space 
for  him  to  work  in.  His  loom,  or  bench,  or  wheel,  is  there  ; 
and  there  he  labors,  sleeps  and  wakes,  and  counts  the  seasons 
as  they  change,  and  grows  old. 

The  first  man  I  saw  was  seated  at  his  loom  at  work.  He 
had  been  there  six  years,  and  was  to  remain,  I  think,  three 
more.  He  had  beey  convicted  as  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods, 
but,  even  after  his  long  imprisonment,  denied  his  guilt, 
and  said  he  had  been  hardly  dealt  by.  It  was  his  second 
offense. 

He  stopped  his  work  when  we  went  in,  took  off  his  specta- 
cles, and  answered  freely  to  every  thing  that  was  said  to  him, 
but  always  with  a  strange  kind  of  pause  first,  and  in  a  low, 
thoughtful  voice.  He  wore  a  paper  hat  of  his  own  making, 
and  was  pleased  to  have  it  noticed  and  commended.  He 
had  very  ingeniously  manufactured  a  sort  of  Dutch  clock 
from  some  disregarded  odds  and  ends  ;  and  his  vinegar-bottle 
served  for  the  pendulum.  Seeing  me  interested  in  this  con- 
trivance, he  looked  up  at  it  with  a  great  deal  of  pride,  and 
said  that  he  had  been  thinking  of  improving  it,  and  that  he 
hoped  the  hammer  and  a  little  piece  of  broken  glass  beside  it 
"  would  play  music  before  long."  He  had  extracted  some 
colors  from  yarn  with  which  he  worked,  and  painted  a  few 
poor  figures  on  the  wall.  One,  of  a  female,  over  the  door,  he 
called  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake." 

He  smiled  as  I  looked  at  these  contrivances  to  while  away 
the  time  ;  but  when  I  looked  from  them  to  him,  I  saw  that 
his  lips  trembled,  and  could  have  counted  the  beating  of  his 
heart.  I  forgot  how  it  came  about,  but  some  allusion  was 
made  to  his  having  a  wife.  He  shook  his  head  at  the  word, 
turned  aside,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"But  you  are  resigned  now  !  "  said  one  of  the  gentlemen 
after  a  short  pause,  during  which  he  had  resumed  his  former 
manner.  He  answered  with  a  sigh  that  seemed  quite  reck- 
less in  its  hopelessness,  "  Oh  yes,  oh  yes  !  I  am  resigned  to 
it."  "And  are  a  better  man,  you  think?"  "Well,  I  hope 
so:  I'm  sure  I  hope  I  maybe."  "And  time  goes  pretty 
quickly  ?  "  "  Time  is  very  long,  gentlemen,  within  these 
four  walls  !  " 

He  gazed  about  him — heaven  only  knows  how  wearily  J 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  99 

as  he  said  these  words  ;  and  in  the  act  of  doing  so,  fell  into 
a  strange  stare  as  if  he  had  forgotten  something.  A  moment 
afterward  he  sighed  heavily,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  went 
about  his  work  again. 

In  another  cell,  there  was  a  German,  sentenced  to  five 
years'  imprisonment  for  larceny,  two  of  which  had  just  ex- 
pired. With  colors  procured  in  the  same  manner,  he  had 
painted  every  inch  of  the  walls  and  ceiling  quite  beautifully. 
He  had  laid  out  the  few  feet  of  ground,  behind,  with  ex- 
quisite neatness,  and  had  made  a  little  bed  in  the  center  that 
looked,  by  the  by,  like  a  grave.  The  taste  and  ingenuity  he 
had  displayed  in  every  thing  was  most  extraordinary  ;  and 
yet  a  more  dejected,  heart-broken,  wretched  creature,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine.  I  never  saw  such  a  picture  of 
forlorn  affliction  and  distress  of  mind.  My  heart  bled  for 
him  ;  and  when  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  took 
one  of  the  visitors  aside,  to  ask,  with  his  trembling  hands 
nervously  clutching  at  his  coat  to  detain  him,  whether  there 
was  no  hope  of  his  dismal  sentence  being  commuted,  the 
spectacle  was  really  too  painful  to  witness.  I  never  saw  or 
heard  of  any  kind  of  misery  that  impressed  me  more  than 
the  wretchedness  of  this  man. 

In  a  third  cell,  was  a  tall  strong  black,  a  burglar,  working 
at  his  proper  trade  of  making  screws  and  the  like.  His  time 
was  nearly  out.  He  was  not  only  a  very  dextrous  thief,  but 
was  most  notorious  for  his  boldness  and  hardihood,  and  for 
the  number  of  his  previous  convictions.  He  entertained  us 
with  a  long  account  of  his  achievements,  which  he  narrated 
with  such  infinite  relish,  that  he  actually  seemed  to  lick  his 
lips,  as  he  told  us  racy  anecdotes  of  stolen  plate,  and  of  old 
ladies  whom  he  had  watched  as  they  sat  at  windows  in  sil- 
ver spectacles  (he  had  plainly  had  an  eye  to  their  metal  even 
from  the  other  side  of  the  street)  and  had  afterward  robbed. 
This  fellow,  upon  the  slightest  encouragement,  would  have 
mingled  with  his  professional  recollections  the  most  detest- 
able cant ;  but  I  am  very  much  mistaken  if  he  could  have 
surpassed  the  unmitigated  hypocrisy  with  which  he  declared 
that  he  blessed  the  day  on  which  he  came  into  that  prison, 
and  that  he  never  would  commit  another  robbery  as  long  as 
he  lived. 

There  was  one  man  who  was  allowed,  as  an  indulgence,  to 
keep  rabbits.  His  room  having  rather  a  close  smell  in  con- 
sequence, they  called  to  him  at  the  door  to  come  out  into  the 
passage.     He  complied,  of  course,  and  stood  shading  his 


I00  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

haggard  face  in  the  unwonted  sunlight  of  the  great  window, 
looking  as  wan  and  unearthly  as  if  he  had  been  summoned 
from  the  grave.  He  had  a  white  rabbit  in  his  breast ;  and 
when  the  little  creature,  getting  down  upon  the  ground,  stole 
back  into  the  cell,  and  he,  being  dismissed,  crept  timidly 
after  it,  I  thought  it  would  have  been  very  hard  to  say  in 
what  respect  the  man  was  the  nobler  animal  of  the  two. 

There  was  an  English  thief,  who  had  been  there  but  a  few 
days  out  of  seven  years  :  a  villainous,  low-browed,  thin- 
lipped  fellow,  with  a  white  face  ;  who  had  as  yet  no  relish 
for  visitors,  and  who,  but  for  the  additional  penalty,  would 
have  gladly  stabbed  me  with  his  shoemaker's  knife.  There 
was  another  German  who  had  entered  the  jail  but  yesterday, 
and  who  started  from  his  bed  when  we  looked  in,  and 
pleaded,  in  his  broken  English,  very  hard  for  work.  There 
was  a  poet,  who  after  doing  two  days'  work  in  every  four- 
and-twenty  hours,  one  for  himself,  and  one  for  the  prison, 
wrote  verses  about  ships  (he  was  by  trade  a  mariner),  and 
"the  maddening  wine-cup,"  and  his  friends  at  home.  There 
were  very  many  of  them.  Some  reddened  at  the  sight  of 
visitors,  and  some  turned  very  pale.  Some  two  or  three  had 
prisoner  nurses  with  them,  for  they  were  very  sick  ;  and 
one,  a  fat  old  negro  whose  leg  had  been  taken  off  within  the 
jail,  had  for  his  attendant  a  classical  scholar  and  an  accom- 
plished surgeon,  himself  a  prisoner  likewise.  Sitting  upon 
the  stairs,  engaged  in  some  slight  work,  was  a  pretty  colored 
boy.  "  Is  there  no  refuge  for  young  criminals  in  Phila- 
delphia, then  ? "  said  I.  "  Yes,  but  only  for  white  children." 
Noble  aristocracy  in  crime  ? 

There  was  a  sailor  who  had  been  there  upward  of  eleven 
years,  and  who  in  a  few  months'  time  would  be  free. 
Eleven  years  of  solitary  confinement ! 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  your  time  is  very  nearly  out." 
What  does  he  say  ?  Nothing.  Why  does  he  stare  at  his 
hands,  and  pick  the  flesh  upon  his  fingers,  and  raise  his  eyes 
for  an  instant,  every  now  and  then,  to  those  bare  walls 
which  have  seen  his  head  turn  gray  ?  It  is  a  way  he  has 
sometimes. 

Does  he  never  look  men  in  the  face,  and  does  he  always 
pluck  at  those  hands  of  his,  as  though  he  were  bent  on  part- 
ing skin  and  bone  !     It  is  his  humor  :  nothing  more. 

It  is  his  humor,  too,  to  say  that  he  does  not  look  forward 
to  going  out ;  that  he  is  not  glad  the  time  is  drawing  near  ; 
that  he  did  look  forward  to  it  once,  but  that  was  very  long 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  101 

ago  ;  that  he  has  lost  all  care  for  every  thing.  It  is  his 
humor  to  be  a  helpless,  crushed,  and  broken  man.  And, 
heaven  be  his  witness  that  he  has  his  humor  thoroughly 
gratified  ! 

There  were  three  young  women  in  adjoining  cells,  all  con- 
victed at  the  same  time  of  a  conspiracy  to  rob  their  prosecu- 
tor. In  the  silence  and  solitude  of  their  lives  they  had 
grown  to  be  quite  beautiful.  Their  looks  were  very  sad, 
and  might  have  moved  the  sternest  visitor  to  tears,  but  not 
to  that  kind  of  sorrow  which  the  contemplation  of  the  men 
awakens.  One  was  a  young  girl  ;  not  twenty,  as  I  recollect  : 
whose  snow-white  room  was  hung  with  the  work  of  some 
former  prisoner,  and  upon  whose  downcast  face  the  sun  in 
all  its  splendor  shone  down  through  the  high  chink  in  the 
wall,  where  one  narrow  strip  of  bright  blue  sky  was  visible. 
She  was  very  penitent  and  quiet  ;  had  come  to  be  resigned, 
she  said  (and  I  believe  her)  ;  and  had  a  mind  at  peace. 
"  In  a  word,  you  are  happy  here  ?  "  said  one  of  my  com- 
panions. She  struggled — she  did  struggle  very  hard — to 
answer,  yes  ;  but  raising  her  eyes,  and  meeting  that  glimpse 
of  freedom  overhead,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  said,  "  She 
tried  to  be  ;  she  uttered  no  complaint  ;  but  it  was  natural 
that  she  should  sometimes  long  to  go  out  of  that  one  cell : 
she  could  not  help  that"  she  sobbed,  poor  thing  ! 

I  went  from  cell  to  cell  that  day  ;  and  every  face  I  saw, 
or  word  I  heard,  or  incident  I  noted,  is  present  to  my  mind 
in  all  its  painfulness.  But  let  me  pass  them  by,  for  one, 
more  pleasant,  glance  of  a  prison  on  the  same  plan  which  I 
afterward  saw  at  Pittsburg. 

When  I  had  gone  over  that,  in  the  same  manner,  I  asked 
the  governor  if  he  had  any  person  in  his  charge  who  was 
shortly  going  out.  He  had  one,  he  said,  whose  time  was  up 
next  day  ;  but  he  had  only  been  a  prisoner  two  years. 

Two  years  !  I  looked  back  through  two  years  of  my  own 
life — out  of  jail,  prosperous,  happy,  surrounded  by  bless- 
ings, comforts,  good-fortune— and  thought  how  wide  a  gap 
it  was,  and  how  long  those  two  years  passed  in  solitary  cap 
tivity  would  have  been.  I  have  the  face  of  this  man,  who 
was  going  to  be  released  next  day,  before  me  now.  It  is 
almost  more  memorable  in  its  happiness  than  the  other 
faces  in  their  misery.  How  easy  and  how  natural  it  was  for 
him  to  say  that  the  system  was  a  good  one  ;  and  that  the 
time  went  "  pretty  quick — considering  ;  "  and  that  when  a 
man  once  felt,  that  he  had  offended  the  law,  and  must  satisfy 
it,  •  he  got  alone,  somehow  :  "  and  so  forth  \ 


102  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

"What  did  he  call  you  back  to  say  to  you,  in  that  strange 
flutter  ? "  I  asked  of  my  conductor,  when  he  had  locked 
the  door  and  joined  me  in  the  passage. 

"  Oil  !  That  he  was  afraid  the  soles  of  his  boots  were  not 
fit  for  walking,  as  they  were  a  good  deal  worn  when  he  came 
in  ;  and  that  he  would  thank  me  very  much  to  have  them 
mended,  ready." 

Those  boots  had  been  taken  off  his  feet,  and  put  away 
with  the  rest  of  his  clothes,  two  years  before  ! 

I  took  that  opportunity  of  inquiring  how  they  conducted 
themselves  immediately  before  going  out  ;  adding  that  I 
presumed  they  trembled  very  much. 

"  Well,  it's  not  so  much  a  trembling,"  was  the  answer — 
"  though  they  do  quiver — as  a  complete  derangement  of  the 
nervous  system.  They  can't  sign  their  names  to  the  book  ; 
sometimes  can't  even  hold  the  pen  ;  look  about  'em  without 
appearing  to  know  why,  or  where  they  are  ;  and  sometimes 
get  up  and  sit  down  again,  twenty  times  in  a  minute.  This 
is  when  they're  in  the  office,  where  they  are  taken  with  the 
hood  on,  as  they  were  brought  in.  When  they  get  outside 
the  gate,  they  stop,  and  look  first  one  way  and  then  the 
other  ;  not  knowing  which  to  take.  Sometimes  they  stag- 
ger as  if  they  were  drunk,  and  sometimes  are  forced  to  lean 
against  the  fence,  they're  so  bad  : — but  they  clear  off  in 
course  of  time." 

As  I  walked  among  these  solitary  cells,  and  looked  at  the 
faces  of  the  men  within  them,  I  tried  to  picture  to  myself  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  natural  to  their  condition.  1  imag- 
ined the  hood  just  taken  off,  and  the  scene  of  their  captivity 
disclosed  to  them  in  all  its  dismal  monotony. 

At  first,  the  man  is  stunned.  His  confinement  is  a  hideous 
vision,  and  his  old  life  a  reality.  He  throws  himself  upon 
his  bed,  and  lies  there  abandoned  to  despair.  By  degrees 
the  insupportable  solitude  and  barrenness  of  the  place 
rouse  him  from  his  stupor,  and  when  the  trap  in  his  grated 
door  is  opened,  he  humbly  begs  and  prays  for  work.  "  Give 
me  some  work  to  do,  or  I  shall  go  raving  mad  !  " 

He  has  it,  and  by  fits  and  starts  applies  himself  to  labor  ; 
but  every  now  and  then  there  comes  upon  him  a  burning 
sense  of  the  years  that  must  be  wasted  in  that  stone  coffin, 
and  an  agony  so  piercing  in  the  recollection  of  those  who 
are  hidden  from  his  view  and  knowledge,  that  he  starts  from 
his  seat,  and  striding  up  and  down  the  narrow  room  with 
both  hands  clasped  on  his  uplifted  head,  hears  spirits  tempt- 
ing him  to  beat  his  brains  out  on  the  wall. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  103 

Again  he  falls  upon  his  bed,  and  lies  there,  moaning.  Sud- 
denly he  starts  up,  wondering  whether  any  other  man  is  near, 
whether  there  is  another  cell  like  that  on  either  side  of  him, 
and  listens  keenly. 

There  is  no  sound,  but  other  prisoners  may  be  near,  for 
all  that.  He  remembers  to  have  heard  once,  when  he  little 
thought  of  coming  here  himself,  that  the  cells  were  so  con- 
structed that  the  prisoners  could  not  hear  each  other, 
though  the  officers  could  hear  them.  Where  is  the  nearest 
man — upon  the  right,  or  on  the  left  ?  or  is  there  one  in  both 
directions  ?  Where  is  he  sitting  now  ? — with  his  face  to  the 
light  ?  or  is  he  walking  to  and  fro  ?  How  is  he  dressed  ? 
Has  he  been  here  long  ?  Is  he  much  worn  away  ?  Is  he 
very  white  and  specter-like  ?  Does  he  think  of  his  neighbor 
too? 

Scarcely  venturing  to  breathe,  and  listening  while  he 
thinks,  he  conjures  up  a  figure  with  his  back  toward  him, 
and  imagines  it  moving  about  in  this  next  cell.  He  has  no 
idea  of  the  face,  but  he  is  certain  of  the  dark  form  of  a 
stooping  man.  In  the  cell  upon  the  other  side  he  puts 
another  figure,  whose  face  is  hidden  from  him  also.  Day 
after  day,  and  often  when  he  wakes  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  he  thinks  of  these  two  men  until  he  is  almost  dis- 
tracted. He  never  changes  them.  There  they  are  always 
as  he  first  imagined  them — an  old  man  on  the  right  ;  a 
younger  man  upon  the  left — whose  hidden  features  torture 
him  to  death,  and  have  a  mystery  that  makes  him  tremble. 

The  weary  days  pass  on  with  solemn  pace,  like  mourners 
at  a  funeral ;  and  slowly  he  begins  to  feel  that  the  white 
walls  of  the  cell  have  something  dreadful  in  them  :  that  their 
color  is  horrible  ;  that  their  smooth  surface  chills  his,  blood  ; 
that  there  is  one  hateful  corner  which  torments  him.  Every 
morning  when  he  wakes,  he  hides  his  head  beneath  the  cov- 
erlet, and  shudders  to  see  the  ghastly  ceiling  looking  down 
upon  him.  The  blessed  light  of  day  itself  peeps  in,  an  ugly 
phantom  face,  through  the  unchangeable  crevice  which  is 
his  prison  window. 

By  slow  but  sure  degrees  the  terrors  of  that  hateful  corner 
swell,  until  they  beset  him  at  all  times  ;  invade  his  rest, 
make  his  dreams  hideous,  and  his  nights  dreadful.  At  first, 
he  took  a  strange  dislike  to  it,  feeling  as  though  it  gave  birth 
in  his  brain  to  something  of  corresponding  shape,  which 
ought  not  to  be  there,  and  racked  his  head  with  pains. 
Then  he  began  to  fear  it,  then  to  dream  of  it,  and  of  men 


I04  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

whispering  its  name  and  pointing  to  it.  Then  he  could  not 
bear  to  look  at  it,  nor  yet  to  turn  his  back  upon  it.  Now,  it 
is  every  night  the  lurking  place  of  a  ghost :  a  shadow — a 
silent  something,  horrible  to  see,  but  whether  bird,  or  beast, 
or  muffled  human  shape,  he  can  not  tell. 

When  he  is  in  his  cell  by  day,  lje  fears  the  little  yard  with- 
out. When  he  is  in  the  yard,  he  dreads'  to  re-enter  the  cell 
When  night  comes,  there  stands  the  phantom  in  the  corner. 
If  he  have  the  courage  to  stand  in  its  place,  and  drive  it  out 
(he  had  once,  being  desperate),  it  broods  upon  his  bed.  In 
the  twilight,  and  always  at  the  same  hour,  a  voice  calls  to 
him  by  name  ;  as  the  darkness  thickens,  his  loom  begins  to 
live  ;  and  even  that,  his  comfort,  is  a  hideous  figure,  watch- 
ing him  till  day-break. 

Again,  by  slow  degrees,  these  horrible  fancies  depart  from 
him  one  by  one,  returning  sometimes  unexpectedly,  but  at 
longer  intervals,  and  in  less  alarming  shapes.  He  has  talked 
upon  religious  matters  with  the  gentleman  who  visits  him, 
and  has  read  his  Bible,  and  has  written  a  prayer  upon  his 
slate,  and  hung  it  up  as  a  kind  of  protection,  and  an  assur- 
ance of  heavenly  companionship.  He  dreams  now,  some- 
times, of  his  children  or  his  wife,  but  is  sure  that  they  are 
dead,  or  have  deserted  him.  He  is  easily  moved  to  tears  ;  is 
gentle,  submissive  and  broken-spirited.  Occasionally,  the 
old  agony  comes  back :  a  very  little  thing  will  revive  it  ; 
even  a  familiar  sound,  or  the  scent  of  summer  flowers  in 
the  air  ;  but  it  does  not  last  long,  now,  for  the  world  with- 
out has  come  to  be  the  vision,  and  this  solitary  life  the  sad 
reality. 

If  his  term  of  imprisonment  be  short — I  mean  compara- 
tively, for  short  it  can  not  be — the  last  half  year  is  almost 
worse  than  all  ;  for  then  he  thinks  the  prison  will  take  fire 
and  he  be  burned  in  the  ruins,  or  that  he  is  doomed  to  die 
within  the  walls,  or  that  he  will  be  detained  on  some  false 
charge  and  sentenced  for  another  term  ;  or  that  something 
no  matter  what,  must  happen  to  prevent  his  going  at  large. 
And  this  is  natural,  and  impossible  to  be  reasoned  against, 
because,  after  his  long  separation  from  human  life,  and  his 
great  suffering,  any  event  will  appear  to  him  more  probable 
in  the  contemplation,  than  the  being  restored  to  liberty  and 
his  fellow-creatures. 

If  his  period  of  confinement  have  been  very  long,  the 
prospect  of  release  bewilders  and  confuses  him.  His  broken 
heart  may  flutter  for  a  moment,  when  he  thinks  of  the  world 


AMERICAN  NOTES. 


">5 


outside,  and  what  it  might  have  been  to  him  in  all  those 
lonely  years,  but  that  is  all.  The  cell-door  has  been  closed 
too  long  on  all  its  hopes  and  cares.  Better  to  have  hanged 
him  in  the  beginning  than  bring  him  to  this  pass,  and  send 
him  forth  to  mingle  with  his  kind,  who  are  his  kind  no 
more. 

On  the  haggard  face  of  every  man  among  these  prisoners, 
the  same  expression  sat.  I  know  not  what  to  liken  it  to.  It 
had  something  of  that  strained  attention  which  we  see  upon 
the  faces  of  the  blind  and  deaf,  mingled  with  a  kind  of 
horror,  as  though  they  had  all  been  secretly  terrified.  In 
every  little  chamber  that  I  entered,  and  at  every  gate  through 
which  I  looked,  I  seemed  to  see  the  same  appalling  counte- 
nance. It  lives  in  my  memory,  with  the  fascination  of  a  re- 
markable picture.  Parade  before  my  eyes  a  hundred  men, 
writh  one  among  them  newly  released  from  this  solitary  suf- 
fering, and  I  would  point  him  out. 

The  faces  of  the  women,  as  I  have  said,  it  humanizes 
and  refines.  Whether  this  be  because  of  their  better  nature, 
which  is  elicited  in  solitude,  or  because  of  their  being 
gentler  creatures,  of  greater  patienee  and  longer  suffering,  I 
do  not  know  ;  but  so  it  is.  That  the  punishment  is,  never- 
theless, to  my  thinking,  fully  as  cruel  and  as  wrong  in  their 
case,  as  in  that  of  the  men,  I  need  scarcely  add. 

My  firm  conviction  is  that,  independent  of  the  mental 
anguish  it  occasions — an  anguish  so  acute  and  so  tremen- 
dous, that  all  imagination  of  it  must  fall  far  short  of  the  real- 
ity— it  wears  the  mind  into  a  morbid  state,  which  renders  it 
unfit  for  the  rough  contact  and  busy  action  of  the  world.  It 
is  my  fixed  opinion  that  those  who  have  undergone  this 
punishment,  must  pass  into  society  again  morally  unhealthy 
and  diseased.  There  are  many  instances  on  record,  of  men 
who  have  chosen,  or  have  been  condemned,  to  lives  of  per- 
fect solitude,  but  I  scarcely  remember  one,  even  among 
sages  of  strong  and  vigorous  intellect,  where  its  effect  has 
not  become  apparent  in  some  disordered  train  of  thought,  or 
some  gloomy  hallucination.  What  monstrous  phantoms, 
bred  of  despondency  and  doubt,  and  born  and  reared  in 
solitude,  have  stalked  upon  the  earth,  making  creation  ugly, 
and  darkening  the  face  of  heaven  ! 

Suicides  are  rare  among  these  prisoners  ;  are  almost,  in- 
deed, unknown.  But  no  argument  in  favor  of  the  system, 
can  reasonably  be  deduced  from  this  circumstance,  although 
it  is  very  often  urged.     All  men  who  have  made  diseases  of 


io6  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  mind  their  study,  know  perfectly  well  that  such  extreme 
depression  and  despair  as  will  change  the  whole  character, 
and  beat  down  all  its  powers  of  elasticity,  and  self-resistance, 
may  be  at  work  within  a  man,  and  yet  stop  short  of  self-de- 
struction.    This  is  a  common  case. 

That  it  makes  the  senses  dull,  and  by  degrees  impairs  the 
bodily  faculties,  I  am  quite  sure.  I  remarked  to  those  who 
were  with  me  in  this  very  establishment  at  Philadelphia,  that 
the  criminals  who  had  been  there  long,  were  deaf.  They, 
who  were  in  the  habit  of  seeing  these  men  constantly,  were 
perfectly  amazed  at  the  idea,  which  they  regarded  as  ground- 
less and  fanciful.  And  yet  the  very  first  prisoner  to  whom 
they  appealed — one  of  their  own  selection — confirmed  my 
impression  (which  was  unknown  to  him)  instantly,  and  said, 
with,  a  genuine  air  it  was  impossible  to  doubt,  that  he 
couldn't  think  how  it  happened,  but  he  was  growing  very 
dull  of  hearing. 

That  it  is  a  singularly  unequal  punishment,  and  affects  the 
worst  man  least,  there  is  no  doubt.  In  its  superior  efficiency 
as  a  means  of  reformation,  compared  with  that  other  code 
of  regulations  which  allows  the  prisoners  to  work  in  company 
without  communicating  together,  I  have  not  the  smallest 
faith.  All  the  instances  of  reformation  that  were  mentioned 
to  me,  were  of  a  kind  that  might  have  been — and  I  have 
no  doubt  whatever,  in  my  own  mind,  would  have  been — 
equally  well  brought  about  by  the  silent  system.  With  re- 
gard to  such  men  as  the  negro  burglar  and  English  thief, 
even  the  most  enthusiastic  have  scarcely  any  hope  of  their 
conversion. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  objection  that  nothing  wholesome 
or  good  has  ever  had  its  growth  in  such  unnatural  solitude, 
and  that  even  a  dog  or  any  of  the  more  intelligent  among 
beasts,  would  pine,  and  mope,  and  rust  away,  beneath  its  in- 
fluence, would  be  in  itself  a  sufficient  argument  against  this 
system.  But  when  we  recollect,  in  addition,  how  very  cruel 
and  severe  it  is,  and  that  a  solitary  life  is  always  liable  to 
peculiar  and  distinct  objections  of  a  most  deplorable  nature, 
which  have  arisen  here,  and  call  to  mind,  moreover,  that  the 
choice  is  not  between  this  system,  and  a  bad  or  ill-considered 
one,  but  between  it  and  another  which  has  worked  well,  and 
is,  in  its  whole  design  and  practice,  excellent  ;  there  is  surely 
more  than  sufficient  reason  for  abandoning  a  mode  of  pun- 
ishment attended  by  so  little  hope  or  promise,  and  fraught, 
beyond  dispute,  with  such  a  host  of  evils. 


AMERICAN  NOTES,  107 

As  a  relief  to  its  contemplation,  I  will  close  this  chapter 
with  a  curious  story  arising  out  of  the  same  theme,  which 
was  related  to  me,  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit,  by  some  of 
the  gentlemen  concerned. 

At  one  of  the  periodical  meetings  of  the  inspectors  of  this 
prison,  a  working  man  of  Philadelphia  presented  himself  be- 
fore the  board,  and  earnestly  requested  to  be  placed  in 
solitary  confinement.  On  being  asked  what  motive  could 
possibly  prompt  him  to  make  this  strange  demand,  he  an- 
swered that  he  had  an  irresistible  propensity  to  get  drunk  ; 
that  he  was  constantly  indulging  it,  to  his  great  misery  and 
ruin  ;  that  he  had  no  power  of  resistance  ;  that  he  wished  to 
be  put  beyond  the  reach  of  temptation  ;  and  that  he  could 
think  of  no  better  way  than  this.  It  was  pointed  out  to  him, 
in  reply,  that  the  prison  was  for  criminals  who  had  been  tried 
and  sentenced  by  the  law,  and  could  not  be  made  available 
for  any  such  fanciful  purposes  ;  he  was  exhorted  to  abstain 
from  intoxicating  drinks,  as  he  surely  might  if  he  would  ; 
and  received  other  very  good  advice,  with  which  he  retired, 
exceedingly  dissatisfied  with  the  result  of  his  application. 

He  came  again,  and  again,  and  again,  and  was  so  very 
earnest  and  importunate,  that  at  last  they  took  counsel  to- 
gether, and  said,  "  He  will  certainly  qualify  himself  for  ad- 
mission, if  we  reject  him  any  more.  Let  us  shut  him  up. 
He  will  soon  be  glad  to  go  away,  and  then  we  shall  get  rid  of 
him."  So  they  made  him  sign  a  statement  which  would  pre- 
vent his  ever  sustaining  an  action  for  false  imprisonment,  to 
the  effect  that  his  incarceration  was  voluntary,  and  of  his 
own  seeking  ;  they  requested  him  to  take  notice  that  the  of- 
ficer in  attendance  had  orders  to  release  him  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night,  when  he  might  knock  upon  the  door  for 
that  purpose  ;  but  desired  him  to  understand,  that  once  go- 
ing out  he  would  not  be  admitted  any  more.  These  condi- 
tions agreed  upon,  and  he  still  remaining  in  the  same  mind, 
he  was  conducted  to  the  prison,  and  shut  up  in  one  of  the 
cells. 

In  this  cell,  the  man,  who  had  not  the  firmness  to  leave  a 
glass  of  liquor  standing  untasted  on  a  table  before  him — in 
this  cell,  in  solitary  confinement,  and  working  every  day  at 
his  trade  of  shoemaking,  this  man  remained  nearly  two  years. 
His  health  beginning  to  fail  at  the  expiration  of  that  time, 
the  surgeon  recommended  that  he  should  work  occasionally 
in  the  garden  ;  and  as  he  liked  the  notion  very  much,  he  went 
about  this  new  occupation  with  great  cheerfulness. 


108  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

He  was  digging  here,  one  summer  day,  very  industriously, 
when  the  wicket  in  the  outer  gate  chanced  to  be  left  open  • 
showing,  beyond,  the  well-remembered  dusty  road  and  sun- 
burned field.  The  way  was  as  free  to  him  as  to  any  man  liv- 
ing, but  he  no  sooner  raised  his  head  and  caught  sight  of  it, 
all  shining  in  the  light,  than,  with  the  involuntary  instinct  of 
a  prisoner,  he  cast  away  his  spade,  scampered  off  as  fast  as 
his  legs  would  carry  him,  and  never  once  looked  back. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WASHINGTON.— THE    LEGISLATURE.— AND     THE     PRESIDENT'S 

HOUSE. 

We  left  Philadelphia  by  steamboat,  at  six  o'clock  one  very 
cold  morning,  and  turned  our  faces  toward  Washington. 

In  the  course  of  this  day's  journey,  as  on  subsequent  oc- 
casions, we  encountered  some  Englishmen  (small  farmers, 
perhaps,  or  country  publicans  at  home)  who  were  settled  in 
America,  and  were  traveling  on  their  own  affairs.  Of  all 
grades  and  kinds  of  men  that  jostle  one  in  the  public  con- 
veyances of  the  States,  these  are  often  the  most  intolerable 
and  the  most  insufferable  companions.  United  to  every 
disagreeable  characteristic  that  the  worst  kind  of  American 
travelers  possess,  these  countrymen  of  ours  display  an 
amount  of  insolent  conceit  and  cool  assumption  of  superi- 
ority, quite  monstrous  to  behold.  In  the  coarse  familiarity 
of  their  approach,  and  the  effrontery  of  their  inquisitiveness 
(which  they  are  in  great  haste  to  assert,  as  if  they  panted  to 
revenge  themselves  upon  the  decent  old  restraints  of  home), 
they  surpass  any  native  specimens  that  came  within  my 
range  of  observation  :  and  I  often  grew  so  patriotic  when  I 
saw  and  heard  them,  that  I  would  cheerfully  have  submitted 
to  a  reasonable  fine,  if  I  could  have  given  any  other  country 
in  the  whole  world,  the  honor  of  claiming  them  for  its 
children. 

As  Washington  may  be  called  the  head-quarters  of  tobacco- 
tinctured  saliva,  the  time  is  come  when  I  must  confess,  without 
any  disguise,  that  the  prevalence  of  those  two  odious  prac- 
tices of  chewing  and  expectorating  began  about  this  time  to 
be  any  thing  but  agreeable,  and  soon  became  most  offensive 
and  sickening.      In  all  the  public  places  of  America,  this 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  109 

filthy  custom  is  recognized.  In  the  courts  of  law,  the  judge 
has  his  spittoon,  the  crier  his,  the  witness  his,  and  the  pris- 
oner his  ;  while  the  jurymen  and  spectators  are  provided  for, 
as  so  many  men  who  in  the  course  of  nature  must  desire  to 
spit  incessantly.  In  the  hospitals,  the  students  of  medicine 
are  requested,  by  notices  upon  the  wall,  to  eject  their  tobacco 
juice  into  the  boxes  provided  for  that  purpose,  and  not  to 
discolor  the  stairs.  In  public  buildings,  visitors  are  implored, 
through  the  same  agency,  to  squirt  the  essence  of  their  quids, 
or  "  plugs,"  as  I  have  heard  them  called  by  gentlemen 
learned  in  this  kind  of  sweetmeat,  into  the  national  spit- 
toons, and  not  about  the^bases  of  the  marble  columns.  But 
in  some  parts,  this  custom  is  inseparably  mixed  up  with 
every  meal  and  morning  call,  and  with  all  the  transactions 
of  social  life.  The  stranger  who  follows  in  the  track  I  took 
myself,  will  find  it  in  its  full  bloom  and  glory,  luxuriant  in 
all  its  alarming  recklessness,  at  Washington.  And  let  him 
not  persuade  himself  (as  I  once  did,  to  my  shame)  that  pre- 
vious tourists  have  exaggerated  its  extent.  The  thing  itself 
is  an  exaggeration  of  nastiness,  which  can  not  be  outdone. 

On  board  this  steamboat,  there  were  two  young  gentlemen 
with  shirt-collars  reversed  as  usual,  and  armed  with  very  big 
walking-sticks  ;  who  planted  two  seats  in  the  middle  of  the 
deck,  at  a  distance  of  some  four  paces  apart ;  took  out  their 
tobacco-boxes  ;  and  sat  down  opposite  each  other,  to  chew. 
In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  time,  these  hopeful  youths 
had  shed  about  them  on  the  clean  boards,  a  copious  shower 
of  yellow  rain  ;  clearing,  by  that  means,  a  kind  of  magic 
circle,  within  whose  limits  no  intruders  dared  to  come,  and 
which  they  never  failed  to  refresh  and  re-refresh  before  a 
spot  was  dry.  This  being  before  breakfast,  rather  disposed 
me,  I  confess,  to  nausea  ;  but  looking  attentively  at  one  of 
the  expectorators,  I  plainly  saw  that  he  was  young  in  chew- 
ing, and  felt  inwardly  uneasy  himself.  A  glow  of  delight 
came  over  me  at  this  discovery  ;  and  as  I  marked  his  face 
turn  paler  and  paler,  and  saw  the  ball  of  tobacco  in  his  left 
cheek  quiver  with  his  suppressed  agony,  while  yet  he  spit, 
and  chewed,  and  spit  again,  in  emulation  of  his  older 
friend,  I  could  have  fallen  on  his  neck  and  implored  him  to 
go  on  for  hours. 

We  all  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  breakfast  in  the  cabin 
below,  where  there  was  no  more  hurry  or  confusion  than  at 
such  a  meal  in  England,  and  where  there  was  certainly  greater 
politeness  exhibited  than  at  most  of  our  stage-coach  banquets. 


no  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

At  about  nine  o'clock  we  arrived  at  the  railroad  station,  and 
went  on  by  the  cars.  At  noon  we  turned  out  again,  to  cross 
a  wide  river  in  another  steamboat  ;  landed  at  a  continuation 
of  the  railroad  on  the  opposite  shore  ;  and  went  on  by  other 
cars  ;  in  which,  in  the  course  of  the  next  hour  or  so,  we 
crossed  by  wooden  bridges,  each  a  mile  in  length,  two  creeks, 
called  respectively  Great  and  Little  Gunpowder.  The  water 
in  both  was  blackened  with  flights  of  canvas-backed  ducks, 
which  are  most  delicious  eating,  and  abound  hereabouts  at 
that  season  of  the  year. 

These  bridges  are  of  wood,  have  no  parapet,  and  are  only 
just  wide  enough  for  the  passage  of  the  trains  ;  which,  in  the 
event  of  the  smallest  accident,  would  inevitably  be  plunged 
into  the  river.  They  are  startling  contrivances,  ahd  are  most 
agreeable  when  passed. 

We  stopped  to  dine  at  Baltimore,  and,  being  now  in  Mary- 
land, were  waited  on,  for  the  first  time,  by  slaves.  The 
sensation  of  exacting  any  service  from  human  creatures  who 
are  bought  and  sold,  and  being,  for  the  time,  a  party  as  it 
were  to  their  condition,  is  not  an  enviable  one.  The  institu- 
tion exists,  perhaps,  in  its  least  repulsive  and  most  mitigated 
form  in  such  a  town  as  this  ;  but  it  is  slavery  ;  and  though 
I  was  with  respect  to  it  an  innocent  man,  its  presence  filled 
me  with  a  sense  of  shame  and  self-reproach. 

After  dinner,  we  went  down  to  the  railroad  again,  and 
took  our  seats  in  the  cars  for  Washington.  Being  rather 
early,  those  men  and  boys  who  happened  to  have  nothing 
particular  to  do,  and  were  curious  in  foreigners,  came 
(according  to  custom)  round  the  carriage  in  which  I  sat ; 
let  down  all  the  windows  ;  thrust  in  their  heads  and  shoul- 
ders ;  hooked  themselves  on  conveniently  by  their  elbows  ; 
and  fell  to  comparing  notes  on  the  subject  of  my  personal 
appearance,  with  as  much  indifference  as  if  I  were  a  stuffed 
figure.  I  never  gained  so  much  uncompromising  informa- 
tion with  reference  to  my  own  nose  and  eyes,  and  various 
impressions  wrought  by  my  mouth  and  chin  on  different 
minds,  and  how  my  head  looks  when  it  is  viewed  from 
behind,  as  on  these  occasions.  Some  gentlemen  were  only 
satisfied  by  exercising  their  sense  of  touch  ;  and  the  boys 
(who  are  surprisingly  precocious  in  America)  were  seldom 
satisfied  even  by  that,  but  would  return  to  the  charge  over 
and  over  again.  Many  a  budding  president  has  walked  into 
my  room  with  his  cap  on  his  head  and  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  stared  at  me  for  two  whole  hours  ;  occasion- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  in 

ally  refreshing  himself  with  a  tweak  of  his  nose,  or  a  draught 
from  the  water-jug  ;  or  by  walking  to  the  windows  and 
inviting  other  boys  in  the  street  below,  to  come  up  and  do 
likewise  :  crying,  "  Here  he  is  !  "  "Come  on  !  "  "Bring  all 
your  brothers  !  "  with  other  hospitable  entreaties  of  that 
nature. 

We  reached  Washington  at  about  half-past  six  that  even- 
ing, and  had  upon  the  way  a  beautiful  view  of  the  Capitol, 
which  is  a  fine  building  of  the  Corinthian  order,  placed 
upon  a  noble  and  commanding  eminence.  Arrived  at  the 
hotel,  I  saw  no  more  of  the  place  that  night  ;  being  very 
tired,  and  glad  to  get  to  bed. 

Breakfast  over  next  morning,  I  walk  about  the  streets  for 
an  hour  or  two,  and,  coming  home,  throw  up  the  window  in 
the  front  and  back,  and  look  out.  Here  is  Washington, 
fresh  in  my  mind  and  under  my  eye. 

Take  the  worst  parts  of  the  City  Road  and  Pentonville, 
or  the  straggling  outskirts  of  Paris,  where  the  houses  are 
smallest,  preserving  all  their  oddities,  but  especially  the 
small  shops  and  dwellings,  occupied  in  Pentonville  (but  not 
in  Washington)  by  furniture-brokers,  keepers  of  poor  eating- 
houses,  and  fanciers  of  birds.  Burn  the  whole  down  ;  build 
it  up  again  in  wood  and  plaster  ;  widen  it  a  little  ;  throw  in 
part  of  St.  John's  Wood  ;  put  green  blinds  outside  all  the 
private  houses,  with  a  red  curtain  and  a  white  one  in  every 
window ;  plow  up  all  the  roads ;  plant  a  great  deal  of 
coarse  turf  in  every  place  where  it  ought  not  to  be  ;  erect 
three  handsome  buildings  in  stone  and  marble,  anywhere, 
but  the  more  entirely  out  of  every  body's  way  the  better ; 
call  one  the  Post  Office,  one  the  Patent  Office,  and  one  the 
Treasury  ;  make  it  scorching  hot  in  the  morning,  and  freez- 
ing cold  in  the  afternoon,  with  an  occasional  tornado  of  wind 
and  dust ;  leave  a  brick-field  without  the  bricks,  in  all  cen- 
tral places  where  a  street  may  naturally  be  expected  :  and 
that  is  Washington. 

The  hotel  in  which  we  live,  is  a  long  row  of  small  houses, 
fronting  on  the  street,  and  opening  at  the  back  upon  a  com- 
mon yard,  in  which  hangs  a  great  triangle.  Whenever  a 
servant  is  wanted,  somebody  beats  on  this  triangle  from  one 
stroke  up  to  seven,  according  to  the  number  of  the  house  in 
which  his  presence  is  required  :  and  as  all  the  servants  are 
always  being  wanted,  and  none  of  them  ever  come,  this 
enlivening  engine  is  in  full  performance  the  whole  day 
through.    Clothes  are  drying  in  the  same  yard  ;  female  slaves, 


ii2  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

with  cotton  handkerchiefs  twisted  round  their  heads,  are 
running  to  and  fro  on  the  hotel  business  ;  black  waiters 
cross  and  recross  with  dishes  in  their  hands  ;  two  great  dogs 
are  playing  upon  a  mound  of  loose  bricks  in  the  center  of 
the  little  square  ;  a  pig  is  turning  up  his  stomach  to  the  sun, 
and  grunting  "  that's  comfortable  !  "  ;  and  neither  the  men, 
nor  the  women,  nor  the  dogs,  nor  the  pig,  nor  any  created 
creature,  takes  the  smallest  notice  of  the  triangle,  which  is 
tingling  madly  all  the  time. 

I  walk  to  the  front  window,  and  look  across  the  road  upon 
a  long,  straggling  row  of  houses,  one  story  high,  terminating, 
nearly  opposite,  but  a  little  to  the  left,  in  a  melancholy  piece 
of  waste  ground  with  frouzy  grass,  which  looks  like  a  small 
piece  of  country  that  has  taken  to  drinking,  and  has  quite  lost 
itself.  Standing  anyhow,  and  all  wrong,  upon  this  open  space, 
like  something  meteoric  that  has  fallen  down  from  the  moon, 
is  an  odd,  lop-sided,  one-eyed  kind  of  a  wooden  building,  that 
looks  like  a  church,  with  a  flag-staff  as  long  as  itself  sticking 
out  of  a  steeple  something  larger  than  a  tea-chest.  Under 
the  window,  is  a  small  stand  of  coaches,  whose  slave-drivers 
are  sunning  themselves  on  the  steps  of  our  door,  and  talking 
idly  together.  The  three  most  obtrusive  houses  near  at  hand 
are  the  three  meanest.  On  one — a  shop,  which  never  has 
any  thing  in  the  window,  and  never  has  the  door  open— is 
painted  in  large  characters,  "  The  City  Lunch."  At  another, 
which  looks  like  a  back  way  to  somewhere  else,  but  is  an 
independent  building  in  itself,  oysters  are  procurable  in  every 
style.  At  the  third,  which  is  a  very,  very  little  tailor's  shop, 
pants  are  fixed  to  order  ;  or  in  other  words,  pantaloons  are 
made  to  measure.     And  that  is  our  street  in  Washington. 

It  is  sometimes  called  the  City  of  Magnificent  Distances, 
but  it  might  with  greater  propriety  be  termed  the  city  of 
magnificent  intentions ;  for  it  is  only  on  taking  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  it  from  the  top  of  the  Capitol,  that  one  can  at  all 
comprehend  the  vast  designs  of  its  projector,  an  aspiring 
Frenchman.  Spacious  avenues,  that  begin  in  nothing,  and 
lead  nowhere  ;  streets,  mile-long,  that  only  want  houses, 
roads  and  inhabitants ;  public  buildings  that  need  but  a 
public  to  be  complete  ;  and  ornaments  of  great  thorough- 
fares which  only  lack  great  thoroughfares  to  ornament — are  its 
leading  features.  One  might  fancy  the  season  over,  and 
most  of  the  houses  gone  out  of  town  forever  with  their 
masters.  To  the  admirers  of  cities  it  is  a  Barmecide  Feast : 
a  pleasant  field  for  the  imagination  to  rove  in  ;  a  monument 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  113 

raised  to  a  deceased  project,  with  not  even  a  legible  inscrip- 
tion to  record  its  departed  greatness. 

Such  as  it  is,  it  is  likely  to  remain.  It  was  originally 
chosen  for  the  seat  of  government,  as  a  means  of  averting 
the  conflicting  jealousies  and  interests  of  the  different  states  ; 
and  very  probably,  too,  as  being  remote  from  mobs  :  a  con- 
sideration not  to  be  slighted,  even  in  America.  It  has  no 
trade  or  commerce  of  its  own  :  having  little  or  no  popula- 
tion beyond  the  president  and  his  establishment  ;  the  mem- 
bers of  the  legislature  who  reside  there  during  the  session  ; 
the  government  clerks  and  officers  employed  in  the  various 
departments  ;  the  keepers  of  the  hotels  and  boarding-houses  ; 
and  the  tradesmen  who  supply  their  tables.  It  is  very 
unhealthy.  Few  people  would  live  in  Washington,  I  take 
it,  who  were  not  obliged  to  reside  there  ;  and  the  tides  of 
emigration  and  speculation,  those  rapid  and  regardless  cur- 
rents, are  little  likely  to  flow  at  any  time  toward  such  dull 
and  sluggish  water. 

The  principal  features  of  the  Capitol,  are,  of  course,  the  two 
houses  of  assembly.  But  there  is,  besides,  in  the  center  of 
the  building,  a  fine  rotunda,  ninety-six  feet  in  diameter,  and 
ninety- six  high,  whose  circular  wall  is  divided  into  compart- 
ments, ornamented  by  historical  pictures.  Four  of  these 
have  for  their  subjects  prominent  events  in  the  Revolution- 
ary struggle.  They  were  painted  by  Colonel  Trumbull, 
himself  a  member  of  Washington's  staff  at  the  time  of  their 
occurrence  ;  from  which  circumstance  they  derive  a  pecu- 
liar interest  of  their  own.  In  the  same  hall  Mr.  Greenough's 
large  statue  of  Washington  has  been  lately  placed.  It  has 
great  merits  of  course,  but  it  struck  me  as  being  rather 
strained  and  violent  for  its  subject.  I  could  wish,  however, 
to  have  seen  it  in  a  better  light  than  it  can  ever  be  viewed 
in,  where  it  stands. 

There  is  a  very  pleasant  and  commodious  library  in  the 
Capitol ;  and  from  a  balcony  in  front,  the  bird's  eye  view, 
of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  may  be  had,  together  with  a 
beautiful  prospect  of  the  adjacent  country.  In  one  of  the 
ornamented  portions  of  the  building,  there  is  a  figure  of 
Justice-;  whereunto  the  Guide-book  says,  "  the  artist  at  first 
contemplated  giving  more  of  nudity,  but  he  was  warned  that 
the  public  sentiment  in  this  country  would  not  admit  of  it, 
and  in  his  caution  he  has  gone,  perhaps,  into  the  opposite 
extreme."  Poor  Justice  !  she  has  been  made  to  wear  much 
stranger  garments  in  America  frMji  those*  she  pines  in,  in  the 


i  f4  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

Capitol.  Let  us  hope  that  she  has  changed  her  dress- 
maker since  they  were  fashioned,  and  that  the  pdblic  senti- 
ment of  the  country  did  not  cut  out  the  clothes  she  hides 
her  lovely  figure  in,  just  now. 

The  House  of  Representatives  is  a  beautiful  and  spacious 
hall,  of  semicircular  shape,  supported  by  handsome  pillars. 
One  part  of  the  gallery  is  appropriated  to  the  ladies,  and 
there  they  sit  in  front  rows,  and  come  in  and  go  out,  as  at  a 
play  or  concert.  The  chair  is  canopied,  and  raised  consid- 
erably above  the  floor  of  the  House  ;  and  every  member 
has  an  easy  chair  and  a  writing  desk  to  himself  :  which  is 
denounced  by  some  people  out  of  doors  as  a  most  unfortu- 
nate and  injudicious  arrangement,  tending  to  long  sittings 
and  prosaic  speeches.  It  is  an  elegant  chamber  to  look  at. 
but  a  singularly  bad  one  for  all  purposes  of  hearing.  The 
Senate,  which  is  smaller,  is  free  from  this  objection,  and  is 
exceedingly  well  adapted  to  the  uses  for  which  it  is  designed. 
The  sittings,  I  need  hardly  add,  take  place  in  the  day  ;  and 
the  parliamentary  forms  are  modeled  on  those  of  the  Old 
Country. 

I  was  sometimes  asked,  in  my  progress  through  other 
places,  whether  I  had  not  been  very  much  impressed  by  the 
heads  of  the  lawmakers  at  Washington  :  meaning  not  their 
chiefs  and  leaders,  but  literally  their  individual  and  personal 
heads,  whereon  their  hair  grew,  and  whereby  the  phreno- 
logical character  of  each  legislator  was  expressed  ;  and  I 
almost  as  often  struck  my  questioner  dumb  with  indignant 
consternation  by  answering  "  No,  that  I  didn't  remember 
being  at  all  overcome."  As  I  must,  at  whatever  hazard, 
repeat  the  avowal  here,  I  will  follow  it  up  by  relating  my 
impressions  on  this  subject  in  as  few  words  as  possible. 

In  the  first  place — it  may  be  from  some  imperfect  devel- 
opment of  my  organ  of  veneration — I  do  not  remember  hav- 
ing ever  fainted  away,  or  having  even  been  moved  to  tears  of 
joyful  pride,  at  sight  of  any  legislative  body.  I  have  borne 
the  House  of  Commons  like  a  man,  and  have  yielded  to  no 
weakness,  but  slumber,  in  the  House  of  Lords.  I  have  seen 
elections  from  borough  and  county,  and  have  never  been 
impelled  (no  matter  which  party  won)  to  damage  my.hat  by 
throwing  it  up  into  the  air  in  triumph,  or  to  crack  my  voice 
by  shouting  forth  any  reference  to  our  glorious  constitution, 
to  the  noble  purity  of  our  independent  voters,  or  the  unim- 
peachable integrity  of  our  independent  members.  Having 
withstood  such  strong  attacks  upon  my  fortitude,  it  is  possi- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  115 

ble  that  I  may  be  of  a  cold  and  insensible  temperament, 
amounting  to  iciness,  in  such  matters  ;  and  therefore  my 
impressions  of  the  live  pillars  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington 
must  be  received  with  such  grains  of  allowance  as  this  free 
confession  may  seem  to  demand. 

Did  I  see  in  this  public  body  an  assemblage  of  men,  bound 
together  in  the  sacred  names  of  Liberty  and  Freedom,  and  so 
asserting  the  chaste  dignity  of  these  twin  goddesses,  in  all 
their  discussions,  as  to  exalt  at  once  the  eternal  principles 
to  which  their  names  are  given,  and  their  own  character  and 
the  character  of  their  countrymen,  in  the  admiring  eyes  of 
the  whole  world  ? 

It  was  but  a  week  since  an  aged,  gray-haired  man,  a  last- 
ing honor  to  the  land  that  gave  him  birth,  who  has  done  good 
service  to  his  country,  as  his  forefathers  did,  and  who  will 
be  remembered  scores  upon  scores  of  years  after  the  worms, 
bred  in  its  corruption,  are  so  many  grains  of  dust — it  was 
but  a  week  since  this  old  man  had  stood  for  days  upon  his 
trial  before  this  very  body,  charged  with  having  dared  to 
assert  the  infamy  of  that  traffic,  which  has  for  its  accursed 
merchandise  men  and  women,  and  their  unborn  children. 
Yes.  And  publicly  exhibited  in  the  same  city  all  the  while  ; 
gilded,  framed  and  glazed  ;  hung  up  for  general  admira- 
tion ;  shown  to  strangers  not  with  shame,  but  pride  ;  its  face 
not  turned  toward  the  wall,  itself  not  taken  down  and 
burned  ;  is  the  unanimous  declaration  of  the  thirteen  United 
States  of  America,  which  solemnly  declares  that  all  men  are 
created  equal ;  and  are  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  the 
inalienable  rights  of  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness ! 

It  wasnot  a  month  since  this  same  body  had  sat  calmly 
by  and  heard  a  man,  one  of  themselves,  with  oaths  which 
beggars  in  their  drink  reject,  threaten  to  cut  another's 
throat  from  ear  to  ear.  There  he  sat,  among  them  ;  not 
crushed  by  the  general  feeling  of  the  assembly,  but  as  good 
a  man  as  any. 

There  was  but  a  week  to  come,  and  another  of  that  body, 
for  doing  his  duty  to  those  who  sent  him  there  ;  for  claim- 
ing in  a  republic  the  liberty  and  freedom  of  expressing  their 
sentiments  and  making  known  their  prayer  ;  would  be  tried, 
found  guilty,  and  have  a  strong  censure  passed  upon  him  by 
the  rest.  His  was  a  grave  offense,  indeed  ;  for  years  be- 
fore, he  had  risen  up  and  said,  "  A  gang  of  male  and  female 
slaves  for  sale,  warranted  to  breed  like  cattle,  linked  to  each 


n6  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

other  by  iron  fetters,  are  passing  now  along  the  open  street 
beneath  the  windows  of  your  temple  of  equality  !  Look  !  " 
But  there  are  many  kinds  of  hunters  engaged  in  the  pursuit 
of  happiness,  and  they  go  variously  armed.  It  is  the  in- 
alienable right  of  some  among  them  to  take  the  field  after 
their  happiness  equipped  with  cat  and  cartwhip,  stocks, 
and  iron  collar,  and  to  shout  their  view  halloo  !  (always  in 
praise  of  liberty)  to  the  music  of  clanking  chains  and  bloody 
stripes. 

VVhere  sat  the  many  legislators  of  coarse  threats  ;  of 
words  and  blows  such  as  coalheavers  deal  upon  each  other, 
when  they  forget  their  breeding  ?  On  every  side.  Every 
session  had  its  anecdotes  of  that  kind,  and  the  actors  were 
all  there. 

Did  I  recognize  in  this  assembly  a  body  of  men,  who,  ap- 
plying themselves  in  a  new  world  to  correct  some  of  the 
falsehoods  and  vices  of  the  old,  purified  the  avenues  to  pub- 
lic life,  paved  the  dirty  ways  to  place  and  power,  debated 
and  made  laws  for  the  common  good,  and  had  no  party  but 
their  country  ? 

I  saw  in  them  the  wheels  that  move  the  meanest  perver- 
sion of  virtuous  political  machinery  that  the  worst  tools  ever 
wrought.  Despicable  trickery  at  elections  ;  under-handed 
tamperings  with  public  officers  ;  cowardly  attacks  upon  op- 
ponents, with  scurrilous  newspapers  for  shields,  and  hired 
pens  for  daggers  ;  shameful  trucklings  to  mercenary  knaves, 
whose  claim  to  be  considered,  is,  that  every  day  and  week 
they  sow  new  crops  of  ruin  with  their  venal  types,  which  are 
the  dragon's  teeth  of  yore,  in  every  thing  but  sharpness  ; 
aidings  and  abettings  of  every  bad  inclination  in  the  popu- 
lar mind,  and  artful  suppressions  of  all  its  good  influences  : 
such  things  as  these,  and  in  a  word,  Dishonest  Faction  in 
its  most  depraved  and  most  unblushing  form,  stared  out 
from  every  corner  of  the  crowded  hall. 

Did  I  see  among  them  the  intelligence  and  refinement : 
the  true,  honest,  patriotic  heart  of  America  ?  Here  and 
there  were  drops  of  its  blood  and  life,  but  they  scarcely 
colored  the  stream  of  desperate  adventurers  which  sets  that 
way  for  profit  and  for  pay.  It  is  the  game  of  these  men 
and  of  their  profligate  organs  to  make  the  strife  of  politics 
so  fierce  and  brutal,  and  so  destructive  of  all  self-respect 
in  worthy  men,  that  sensitive  and  delicate-minded  persons 
shall  be  k^pt  aloof,  and  they,  and  such  as  they,  be  left  to  bat- 
tle out  their  selfish  views  unchecked.     And  thus  this  lowest 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  **7 

of  all  scrambling  fights  goes  on,  and  they  who  in  other  coun- 
tries would,  from  their  intelligence  and  station,  most  aspire 
to  make  the  laws,  do  here  recoil  the  furthest  from  that  degra- 
dation. 

That  there  are  among  the  representatives  of  the  people  in 
both  Houses,  and  among  all  parties,  some  men  of  high  char- 
acter and  great  abilities,  I  need  not  say.  The  foremost 
among  those  politicians  who  are  known  in  Europe  have  been 
already  described,  and  I  see  no  reason  to  depart  from  the 
rule  I  have  laid  down  for  my  guidance,  of  abstaining  from 
all  mention  of  individuals.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  add,  that 
to  the  most  favorable  accounts  that  have  been  written  of 
them,  I  more  than  fully  and  most  heartily  subscribe  ;  and 
that  personal  intercourse  and  free  communication  have  bred 
within  me,  not  the  result  predicted  in  the  very  doubtful  prov- 
erb, but  increased  admiration  and  respect.  They  are  strik- 
ing men  to  look  at,  hard  to  deceive,  prompt  to  act,  lions  in 
energy,  Crichtons  in  varied  accomplishments,  Indians  in  fire 
of  eye  and  gesture,  Americans  in  strong  and  generous  im- 
pulse ;  and  they  as  well  represent  the  honor  and  wisdom  of 
their  country  at  home  as  the  distinguished  gentleman  who  is 
now  its  minister  at  the  British  Court  sustains  its  highest 
character  abroad. 

I  visited  both  Houses  nearly  every  day  during  my  stay  in 
Washington.  On  my  initiatory  visit  to  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, they  divided  against  the  decision  of  the  chair ; 
but  the  chair  won.  The  second  time  I  went,  the  member 
who  was  speaking,  being  interrupted  by  a  laugh,  mimicked 
it,  as  one  child  would  in  quarreling  with  another,  and 
added,  "  that  he  would  make  honorable  gentlemen  opposite 
sing  out  a  little  more  on  the  other  side  of  their  mouths 
presently."  But  interruptions  are  rare  ;  the  speaker  being 
usually  heard  in  silence.  There  are  more  quarrels  than  with 
us,  and  more  threatenings  than  gentlemen  are  accustomed 
to  exchange  in  any  civilized  society  of  which  we  have  re- 
cord  ;  but  farm-yard  imitations  have  not  as  yet  been  im- 
ported from  the  Parliament  of  the  United  Kingdom.  The 
feature  in  oratory  which  appears  to  be  the  most  prac- 
ticed, and  most  relished,  is  the  constant  repetition  of  the 
same  idea  or  shadow  of  an  idea  in  fresh  words  ;  and  the 
inquiry  out  of  doors  is  not,  "  What  did  he  say  ? "  but,  "  How 
how  long  did  he  speak  ? "  These,  however,  are  but  enlarge- 
ments of  a  principle  which  prevails  elsewhere.  » 

The  Senate  is  a  dignified  and  decorous  body,  and  its  pro- 


n8  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

ceedings  are  conducted  with  much  gravity  and  order.  Both 
Houses  are  handsomely  carpeted  ;  but  the  state  to  which 
these  carpets  are  reduced  by  the  universal  disregard  of  the 
spittoon  with  which  every  honorable  member  is  accommo- 
dated, and  the  extraordinary  improvements  on  the  pattern 
which  are  squirted  and  dabbed  upon  it  in  every  direction, 
do  not  admit  of  being  described.  I  will  merely  observe, 
that  I  strongly  recommend  all  strangers  not  to  look  at  the 
floor  ;  and  if  they  happen  to  drop  any  thing,  though  it  be 
their  purse,  not  to  pick  it  up  with  an  ungloved  hand  on  any 
account. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  too,  at  first,  to  say  the  least, 
to  see  so  many  honorable  members  with  swelled  faces ;  and 
it  is  scarcely  less  remarkable  to,  discover  that  this  appear- 
ance is  caused  by  the  quantity  of  tobacco  they  contrive  to 
stow  within  the  hollow  of  the  cheek.  It  is  strange  enough 
too,  to  see  an  honorable  gentleman  leaning  back  in  his  tilted 
chair  with  his  legs  on  the  desk  before  him,  shaping  a  con- 
venient "  plug  "  with  his  penknife,  and  when  it  is  quite  ready 
for  use,  shooting  the  old  one  from  his  mouth,  as  from  a  pop- 
gun, and  clapping  the  new  one  in  its  place. 

I  was  surprised  to  observe  that  even  steady  old  chewers 
of  great  experience  are  not  always  good  marksmen,  which 
has  rather  inclined  me  to  doubt  that  general  proficiency  with 
the  rifle,  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much  in  England.  Sev- 
eral gentlemen  called  upon  me  who,  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, frequently  missed  the  spittoon  at  five  paces  ;  and  one 
(but  he  was  certainly  short-sighted)  mistook  the  closed 
sash  for  the  open  window,  at  three.  On  another  occasion, 
when  I  dined  out,  and  was  sitting  with  two  ladies  and  some 
gentlemen  round  a  fire  before  dinner,  one  of  the  company 
fell  short  of  the  fire-place,  six  distinct  times.  I  am  dis- 
posed to  think,  however,  that  this  was  occasioned  by  his 
not  aiming  at  that  object  ;  as  there  was  a  white  marble 
hearth  before  the  fender,  which  was  more  convenient,  and 
may  have  suited  his  purpose  better. 

The  Patent  Office  at  Washington,  furnishes  an  extraordi- 
nary example  of  American  enterprise  and  ingenuity  ;  for 
the  immense  number  of  models  it  contains,  are  the  accu- 
mulated inventions  of  only  five  years  ;  the  whole  of  the 
previous  collection  having  been  destroyed  by  fire.  The 
elegant  structure  in  which  they  are  arranged,  is  one  of  design 
rather  tl?an  execution,  for  there  is  but  one  side  erected  out 
of  four,  though  the  works  are  stopped.     The  Post-office  is  a 


AMERICAN  NOTES,  119 

very  compact  and  very  beautiful  building.  In  one  of  the 
departments,  among  a  collection  of  rare  and  curious  articles, 
are  deposited  the  presents  which  have  been  made  from  time 
to  time  to  the  American  ambassadors  at  foreign  courts  by 
the  various  potentates  to  whom  they  were  the  accredited 
agents  of  the  republic  ;  gifts  which  by  the  law  they  are  not 
permitted  to  retain.  I  confess  that  I  looked  upon  this  as  a 
very  painful  exhibition,  and  one  by  no  means  flattering  to 
the  national  standard  of  honesty  and  honor.  That  can 
scarcely  be  a  high  state  of  moral  feeling  which  imagines  a 
gentleman  of  repute  and  station,  likely  to  be  corrupted,  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty,  by  the  present  of  a  snuff-box,  or 
a  richly-mounted  sword,  or  an  Eastern  shawl  ;  and  surely 
the  nation  who  reposes  confidence  in  her  appointed  serv- 
ants, is  likely  to  be  better  served,  than  she  who  makes  them 
the  subject  of  such  very  mean  and  paltry  suspicions. 

At  Georgetown,  in  the  suburbs,  there  is  a  Jesuit  col- 
lege ;  delightfully  situated,  and,  so  far  as  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing,  well  managed.  Many  persons  who  are  not 
members  of  the  Romish  Church,  avail  themselves,  I  believe, 
of  these  institutions,  and  of  the  advantageous  opportunities 
they  afford  for  the  education  of  their  children.  The  heights 
of  this  neighborhood,  above  the  Potomac  River,  are  very 
picturesque  ;  and  are  free,  I  should  conceive,  from  some  of 
the  insalubrities  of  Washington.  The  air,  at  that  elevation, 
was  quite  cool  and  refreshing,  when  in  the  city  it  was  burn- 
ing hot. 

The  president's  mansion  is  more  like  an  English  club- 
house, both  within  and  without,  than  any  other  kind  of  es- 
tablishment with  which  I  can  compare  it.  The  ornamental 
ground  about  it  has  been  laid  out  in  garden  walks  ;  they  are 
pretty  and  agreeable  to  the  eye  ;  though  they  have  that 
uncomfortable  air  of  having  been  made  yesterday,  which  is 
far  from  favorable  to  the  display  of  such  beauties. 

My  first  visit  to  this  house  was  on  the  morning  after  my 
arrival,  when  I  was  carried  thither  by  an  official  gentleman, 
who  was  so  kind  as  to  charge  himself  with  my  presentation 
to  the  president. 

We  entered  a  large  hall,  and  having  twice  or  thrice  rung 
a  bell  which  nobody  answered,  walked  without  further  cere- 
mony through  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  as  divers 
other  gentlemen  (mostly  with  their  hats  on,  and  their  hands 
in  their  pockets)  were  doing  very  leisurely.  Som$  of  these 
had    ladies   with    them,    to   whom    they  were  showing  the 


"o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

premises  ;  others  were  lounging  on  the  chairs  and  sofas ; 
others,  in  a  perfect  state  of  exhaustion  from  listlessness,  were 
yawning  drearily.  The  greater  portion  of  this  assemblage 
were  rather  asserting  their  supremacy  than  doing  any  thing 
else,  as  they  had  no  particular  business  there,  that  any  body 
knew  of.  A  few  were  closely  eying  the  movables,  as  if  to 
make  quite  sure  that  the  president  (who  was  far  from  popu- 
lar) had  not  made  away  with  any  of  the  furniture,  or  sold  the 
fixtures  for  his  private  benefit. 

After  glancing  at  these  loungers  ;  who  were  scattered 
over  a  pretty  drawing-room,  opening  upon  a  terrace  which 
commanded  a  beautiful  prospect  of  the  river  and  the  adja- 
cent country  ;  and  who  were  sauntering,  too,  about  a  largei 
state-room  called  the  eastern  drawing-room  ;  we  went  up- 
staiis  into  another  chamber,  where  were  certain  visitors, 
waiting  for  audiences.  At  sight  of  my  conductor,  a  black 
in  plain  clothes  and  yellow  slippers  who  was  gliding  noise- 
lessly about,  and  whispering  messages  in  the  ears  of  the  more 
impatient,  made  a  sign  of  recognition,  and  glided  off  to  an- 
nounce him. 

We  had  previously  looked  into  another  chamber  fitted  all 
round  with  a  great  bare  wooden  desk  or  counter,  whereon 
lay  files  of  newspapers,  to  which  sundry  gentlemen  were 
referring.  But  there  were  no  such  means  of  beguiling  the 
time  in  this  apartment,  which  was  as  unpromising  and  tire- 
some as  any  waiting-room  in  one  of  our  public  establish- 
ments, or  any  physician's  dining-room  during  his  hours  of 
consultation  at  home. 

There  were  some  fifteen  or  twenty  persons  in  the  room. 
One,  a  tall,  wiry,  muscular  old  man,  from  the  west  ;  sun- 
burned and  swarthy  ;  with  a  brown  white  hat  on  his  knees, 
and  a  giant  umbrella  resting  between  his  legs  ;  who  sat  bolt 
upright  in  his  chair,  frowning  steadily  at  the  carpet,  and 
twitching  the  hard  lines  about  his  mouth,  as  if  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  "  to  fix  "  the  president  on  what  he  had.  to  say, 
and  wouldn't  bate  him  a  grain.  Another,  a  Kentucky 
farmer,  six-foot-six  in  height,  with  his  hat  on,  and  his  hands 
under  his  coat-tails,  who  leaned  against  the  wall  and  kicked 
the  floor  with  his  heel,  as  though  he  had  Time's  head  under 
his  shoe,  and  were  literally  "  killing  "  him.  A  third,  an  oval- 
faced,  bilious-looking  man,  with  sleek  black  hair  cropped 
close,  and  whiskers  and  beard  shaved  down  to  blue  dots, 
who  sucked  the  head  of  a  thick  stick,  and  from  time  to  time 
took  it  out  of  his  mouth,  to  see  how  it  was  getting  on.     A 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  121 

fourth  did  nothing  but  whistle.  A  fifth  did  nothing  but 
spit.  And  indeed  all  these  gentlemen  were  so  very  persever- 
ing and  energetic  in  this  latter  particular,  and  bestowed  their 
favors  so  abundantly  upon  the  carpet,  that  I  take  it  for 
granted  the  presidential  house-maids  have  high  wages,  or  to 
speak  more  genteelly,  an  ample  amount  of  "  compensa- 
tion :  "  which  is  the  American  word  for  salary,  in  the  case  of 
all  public  servants. 

We  have  not  waited  in  this  room  many  minutes,  before 
the  black  messenger  returned,  and  conducted  us  into  another 
of  smaller  dimensions,  where,  at  a  business-like  table  covered 
with  papers,  sat  the  president  himself.  He  looked  some- 
what worn  and  anxious,  and  well  he  might;  being  at  war 
with  every  body — but  the  expression  of  his  face  was  mild 
and  pleasant,  and  his  manner  was  remarkably  unaffected, 
gentlemanly,  and  agreeable.  I  thought  that  in  his  whole 
carriage  and  demeanor,  he  became  his  station  singularly 
well. 

Being  advised  that  the  sensible  etiquette  of  the  republican 
court,  admitted  of  a  traveler,  like  myself,  declining,  without 
any  impropriety,  an  invitation  to  dinner,  which  did  not  reach 
me  until  I  had  concluded  my  arrangements  for  leaving 
Washington  some  days  before  that  to  which  it  referred,  1 
only  returned  to  this  house  once.  It  was  on  the  occasion 
of  one  of  those  general  assemblies  which  are  held  on  certain 
nights,  between  the  hours  of  nine  and  twelve  o'clock,  and 
are  called,  rather  oddly,  levees. 

I  went,  with  my  wife,  at  about  ten.  There  was  a  pretty 
dense  crowd  of  carriages  and  people  in  the  court-yard,  and, 
so  far  as  I  could  make  out,  there  were  no  very  clear  regu- 
lations for  the  taking  up  or  setting  down  of  company. 
There  were  certainly  no  policemen  to  soothe  startled  horses, 
either  by  sawing  at  their  bridles  or  flourishing  truncheons  in 
their  eyes  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  make  oath  that  no  inoffensive 
persons  were  knocked  violently  upon  the  head,  or  poked 
acutely  in  their  backs  or  stomachs  ;  or  brought  to  a  stand- 
still by  any  such  gentle  means,  and  then  taken  into  custody 
for  not  moving  on.  But  there  was  no  confusion  or  disorder. 
Our  carriage  reached  the  porch  in  its  turn,  without  any 
blustering,  swearing,  shouting,  backing,  or  other  disturb- 
ance :  and  we  dismounted  with  as  much  ease  and  comfort 
as  though  we  had  been  escorted  by  the  whole  Metropolitan 
Force  from  A  to  Z  inclusive. 

The  suite  of  rooms  on  the  ground-floor,  were  lighted  up  ; 


122  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

and  a  military  band  was  playing  in  the  hall.  In  the  smaller 
drawing-room,  the  center  of  a  circle  of  company,  were  the 
president  and  his  daughter-in-law,  who  acted  as  the  lady  of 
the  mansion  ;  and  a  very  interesting,  graceful,  and  accom- 
plished lady  too.  One  gentleman  who  stood  among  this  group 
appeared  to  take  upon  himself  the  functions  of  a  master  of 
the  ceremonies.  I  saw  no  other  officers  or  attendants,  and 
none  were  needed. 

The  great  drawing-room,  which  I  have  already  mentioned, 
and  the  other  chambers  on  the  ground-floor,  were  crowded 
to  excess.  The  company  was  not,  in  our  sense  of  the  term, 
select,  for  it  comprehended  persons  of  very  many  grades 
and  classes  ;  nor  was  there  any  great  display  of  costly  attire  ; 
indeed,  some  of  the  costumes  may  have  been,  for  aught  I 
know,  grotesque  enough.  But  the  decorum  and  propriety 
of  behavior  which  prevailed,  were  unbroken  by  any  rude  or 
disagreeable  incident  ;  and  every  man,  even  among  the  mis- 
cellaneous crowd  in  the  hall  who  were  admitted,  without  any 
orders  or  tickets,  to  look  on,  appeared  to  feel  that  he  was  a 
part  of  the  institution,  and  was  responsible  for  its  preserving 
a  becoming  character,  and  appearing  to  the  best  advantage. 

That  these  visitors,  too,  whatever  their  station,  were  not 
without  some  refinement  of  taste  and  appreciation  of  intel- 
lectual gifts,  and  gratitude  to  those  men  who,  by  the  peace- 
ful exercise  of  great  abilities,  shed  new  charms  and  associ- 
ations upon  the  houses  of  their  countrymen,  and  elevate 
their  character  in  other  lands,  was  most  earnestly  testified 
by  their  reception  of  Washington  Irving,  my  dear  friend, 
who  had  recently  been  appointed  minister  at  the  court  of 
Spain,  and  who  was  among  them  that  night,  in  his  new  char- 
acter, for  the  first  and  last  time  before  going  abroad.  I  sin- 
cerely believe  that  in  all  the  madness  of  American  politics, 
few  public  men  would  have  been  so  earnestly,  devotedly,  and 
affectionately  caressed,  as  this  most  charming  writer  ;  and 
I  have  seldom  respected  a  public  assembly  more  than  I  did 
this  eager  throng,  when  I  saw  them  turning  with  one  mind 
from  noisy  orators  and  officers  of  state,  and  flocking  with  a 
generous  and  honest  impulse  round  the  man  of  quiet  pur- 
suits ;  proud  in  his  promotion  as  reflecting  back  upon  their 
country,  and  grateful  to  him  with  their  whole  hearts  for  the 
stores  of  grateful  fancies  he  had  poured  out  among  them. 
Long  may  he  dispense  such  treasures  with  unsparing  hand  ; 
and  long  may  they  remember  him  as  worthily. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  123 

The  term  we  had  assigned  for  the  duration  of  our  stay  in 
Washington,  was  now  at  an  end,  and  we  were  to  begin  to 
travel  ;  for  the  railroad  distances  we  had  traversed  yet,  in 
journeying  among  these  older  towns,  are  on  that  great  con- 
tinent looked  upon  as  nothing. 

I  had  at  first  intended  going  south — to  Charleston.  But 
when  I  came  to  consider  the  length  of  time  which  this  jour- 
ney would  occupy,  and  the  premature  heat  of  the  season, 
which  even  at  Washington  had  been  often  very  trying  ;  and 
weighed,  moreover,  in  my 'own  mind,  the  pain  of  living  in 
the  constant  contemplation  of  slavery,  against  the  more  than 
doubtful  chances  of  my  ever  seeing  it,  in  the  time  I  had  to 
spare,  stripped  of  the  disguises  in  which  it  would  certainly 
be  dressed,  and  so  adding  any  item  to  the  host  of  facts  al- 
ready heaped  together  on  the  subject ;  I  began  to  listen  to 
old  whisperings  which  had  often  been  present  to  me  at  home 
in  England,  when  I  little  thought  of  ever  being  here  ;  and 
to  dream  again  of  cities  growing  up,  like  palaces  in  fairy 
tales,  among  the  wilds  and  forests  of  the  west. 

The  advice  I  received  in  most  quarters  when  I  began  to 
yield  to  my  desire  of  traveling  toward  that  point  of  the  com- 
pass, was,  according  to  custom,  sufficiently  cheerless  ;  my 
companion  being  threatened  with  more  perils,  dangers,  and 
discomforts,  than  I  can  remember  or  would  catalogue  if  I 
could  ;  but  of  which  it  will  be  sufficient  to  remark  that  blow- 
ings-up  in  steamboats  and  breakings-down  in  coaches  were 
among  the  least.  But,  having  a  western  route  sketched  out 
for  me  by  the  best  and  kindest  authority  to  which  I. could 
have  resorted,  and  putting  no  great  faith  in  these  discour- 
agements, I  soon  determined  on  my  plan  of  action. 

This  was  to  travel  south,  only  to  Richmond  in  Virginia  ; 
and  then  to  turn,  and  shape  our  course  for  the  Far  West  ; 
whither  I  beseech  the  reader's  company,  in  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  NIGHT  STEAMER  ON  THE  POTOMAC  RIVER. — VIRGINFA  ROAD, 

AND      A     BLACK     DRIVER. RICHMOND. — BALTIMORE. — THE 

HARRISBURG  MAIL,  AND  A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  CITY. A  CANAL- 
BOAT. 

We  were  to  proceed  in  the  first  instance  by  steamboat  ; 
and  as  it  is  usual  to  sleep  on  board,  in  consequence  of  the 


i24  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

starting-hour  being  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  went 
down  to  where  she  lay  at  that  very  uncomfortable  time  for 
such  expeditions  when  slippers  are  most  valuable,  and  a 
familiar  bed,  in  the  perspective  of  an  hour  or  two,  looks  un- 
commonly pleasant. 

It  is  ten  o'clock  at  night  ;  say  half-past  ten  ;  moonlight, 
warm  and  dull  enough.  The  steamer  (not  unlike  a  child's 
Noah's  Ark  in  form,  with  the  machinery  on  the  top  of  the 
roof)  is  riding  lazily  up  and  down,  and  bumping  clumsily 
against  the  wooden  pier,  as  the  ripple  of  the  river  trifles  with 
its  unwieldy  carcass.  The  wharf  is  some  distance  from  the 
city.  There  is  nobody  down  here  ;  and  one  or  two  dull 
lamps  upon  the  steamer's  decks  are  the  only  signs  of  life 
remaining,  when  our  coach  has  driven  away.  As  soon  as 
our  footsteps  are  heard  upon  the  planks,  a  fat  negress,  par- 
ticularly favored  by  nature  in  respect  of  bustle,  emerges  from 
some  dark  stairs,  and  marshals  my  wife  toward  the  ladies' 
cabin,  to  which  retreat  she  goes,  followed  by  a  mighty  bale 
of  cloaks  and  great-coats.  I  valiantly  resolved  not  to  go  to 
bed  at  all,  but  to  walk  up  and  down  the  pier  till  morning. 

I  begin  my  promenade — thinking  of  all  kinds  of  distant 
things  and  persons,  and  of  nothing  near — and  pace  up  and 
down  for  half  an  hour.  Then  I  go  on  board  again,  and  get- 
ting into  the  light  of  one  of  the  lamps,  look  at  my  watch 
and  think  it  must  have  stopped  ;  and  wonder  what  has  be- 
come of  the  faithful  secretary  whom  I  brought  along  with  me 
from  Boston.  He  is  supping  with  our  late  landlord  (a  field 
marshal  at  least,  no  doubt)  in  honor  of  our  departure,  and 
may  be  two  hours  longer.  I  walk  again,  but  it  gets  duller 
and  duller  ;  the  moon  goes  down  ;  next  June  seems  further 
off  in  the  dark,  and  the  echoes  of  my  footsteps  make  me 
nervous.  It  has  turned  cold  too  ;  and  walking  up  and  down 
without  my  companion  in  such  lonely  circumstances,  is  but 
poor  amusement.  So  I  break  my  staunch  resolution,  and 
think  it  may  be,  perhaps,  as  well  to  go  to  bed. 

I  go  on  board  again  ;  open  the  door  of  the  gentlemen's 
cabin  ;  and  walk  in.  Somehow  or  other — from  its  being  so 
quiet  I  suppose — I  have  taken  it  into  my  head  that  there  is 
nobody  there.  To  my  horror  and  amazement  it  is  full  of 
sleepers  in  every  stage,  shape,  attitude,  and  variety  of  slum- 
ber :  in  the  berths,  on  the  chairs,  on  the  floors,  on  the  tables, 
and  particularly  round  the  stove,  my  detested  enemy.  I  take 
another  step  forward,  and  slip  on  the  shining  face  of  a  black 
steward,  who  lies  rolled  in  a  blanket  on  the  floor.     He  jumps 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  125 

up,  grins  half  in  pain  and  half  in  hospitality  ;  whispers  my 
own  name  in  my  ear  ;  and  groping  among  the  sleepers,  leads 
me  to  my  berth.  Standing  beside  it,  I  count  these  slumber- 
ing passengers,  and  get  past  forty.  There  is  no  use  in  going 
further,  so  I  begin  to  undress.  As  the  chairs  are  all  occu- 
pied, and  there  is  nothing  else  to  put  my  clothes  on,  I  deposit 
them  upon  the  ground  :  not  without  soiling  my  hands,  for 
it  is  in  the  same  condition  as  the  carpets  at  the  Capitol,  and 
from  the  same  cause.  Having  but  partially  undressed,  I 
clamber  on  my  shelf,  and  hold  the  curtain  open  for  a  few 
minutes  while  I  look  round  on  all  my  fellow-travelers  again. 
That  done  I  let  it  fall  on  them,  and  on  the  world  :  turn  round 
and  go  to  sleep. 

I  wake,  of  course,  when  we  get  under  weigh,  for  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  noise.  The  day  is  then  just  breaking.  Every 
body  wakes  at  the  same  time.  Some  are  self-possessed 
directly,  and  some  are  much  perplexed  to  make  out  where 
they  are  until  they  have  rubbed  their  eyes,  and  leaning  on 
one  elbow,  looked  about  them.  Some  yawn,  some  groan, 
nearly  all  spit,  and  a  few  get  up.  I  am  among  the  risers  ; 
for  it  is  easy  to  feel,  without  going  into  the  fresh  air,  that  the 
atmosphere  of  the  cabin  is  vile  in  the  last  degree.  I  huddle 
on  my  clothes,  go  down  into  the  fore-cabin,  get  shaved  by 
the  barber,  and  wash  myself.  The  washing  and  dressing  ap- 
paratus for  the  passengers  generally,  consists  of  two  jack- 
towels,  three  small  wooden  basins,  a  keg  of  water  and  a  ladle 
to  serve  it  out  with,  six  square  inches  of  looking-glass,  two 
ditto  ditto  of  yellow  soap,  a  comb  and  a  brush  for  the  head, 
and  nothing  for  the  teeth.  Every  body  uses  the  comb  and 
brush,  except  myself.  Every  body  stares  to  see  me  using  my 
own  ;  and  two  or  three  gentlemen  are  strongly  disposed  to 
banter  me  on  my  prejudices,  but  don't.  When  I  have  made 
my  toilet,  I  go  upon  the  hurricane-deck,  and  set  in  for  two 
hours  of  hard  walking  up  and  down.  The  sun  is  rising  bril- 
liantly ;  we  are  passing  Mount  Vernon,  where  Washington  lies 
buried  ;  the  river  is  wide  and  rapid  ;  and  its  banks  are  beau- 
tiful. All  the  glory  and  splendor  of  the  day  are  coming  on, 
and  growing  brighter  every  minute. 

At  eight  o'clock,  we  breakfast  in  the  cabin  where  I  passed 
the  night,  but  the  windows  and  doors  are  all  thrown  open, 
and  now  it  is  fresh  enough.  There  is  no  hurry  or  greedi- 
ness apparent  in  the  dispatch  of  the  meal.  It  is  longer  than 
a  traveling  breakfast  with  us  ;  more  orderly,  and  more 
polite. 


i2o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

Soon  after  nine  o'clock  we  come  to  Potomac  Creek,  where 
we  are  to  land  ;  and  then  comes  the  oddest  part  of  the  jour- 
ney. Seven  stage-coaches  are  preparing  to  carry  us  on. 
Some  of  them  are  ready,  some  of  them  are  not  ready.  Some 
of  the  drivers  are  blacks,  some  whites.  There  are  four  horses 
to  each  coach,  and  all  the  horses,  harnessed  or  unharnessed, 
are  there.  The  passengers  are  getting  out  of  the  steamboat, 
and  into  the  coaches  ;  the  luggage  is  being  transferred  in 
noisy  wheelbarrows  ;  the  horses  are  frightened,  and  impa- 
tient to  start  ;  the  black  drivers  are  chattering  to  them  like 
so  many  monkeys  ;  and  the  white  ones  whooping  like  so  many 
drovers  :  for  the  main  thing  to  be  done  in  all  kinds  of  host- 
lering  here,  is  to  make  as  much  noise  as  possible.  The  coaches 
are  something  like  the  French  coaches,  but  not  nearly  so 
good.  In  lieu  of  springs,  they  are  hung  on  bands  of  the 
strongest  leather.  There  is  very  little  choice  or  difference 
between  them  ;  and  they  may  be  likened  to  the  car  portion 
of  the  swings  at~an  English  fair,  roofed,  put  upon  axle-trees 
and  wheels,  and  curtained  with  painted  canvas.  They  are 
covered  with  mud  from  the  roof  to  the  wheel-tire,  and  have 
never  been  cleaned  since  they  were  first  built. 

The  tickets  we  have  received  on  board  the  steamboat  are 
marked  No.  i,  so  we  belong  to  coach  No.  i.  I  throw  my 
coat  on  the  box,  and  hoist  my  wife  and  her  maid  into  the 
inside.  It  has  only  one  step,  and  that,  being  about  a  yard 
from  the  ground,  is  usually  approached  by  a  chair ;  when 
there  is  no  chair,  ladies  trust  in  Providence.  The  coach 
holds  nine  inside,  having  a  seat  across  from  door  to  door, 
where  we  in  England  put  our  legs  ;  so  that  there  is  only  one 
feat  more  difficult  in  the  performance  than  getting  in,  and 
that  is,  getting  out  again.  There  is  only  one  outside  passen- 
ger, and  he  sits  upon  the  box.  As  I  am  that  one,  I  climb 
up  ;  and  while  they  are  strapping  the  luggage  on  the  roof, 
and  heaping  it  into  a  kind  of  tray  behind,  have  a  good  oppor- 
tunity of  looking  at  the  driver. 

He  is  a  negro — very  black  indeed.  He  is  dressed  in  a 
coarse  pepper-and-salt  suit  excessively  patched  and  darned 
(particularly  at  the  knees),  gray  stockings,  enormous  un- 
blacked  high-low  shoes,  and  very  short  trowsers.  He  has 
two  odd  gloves  :  one  of  a  party-colored  worsted,  and  one  of 
leather.  He  has  a  very  short  whip,  broken  in  the  middle 
and  bandaged  up  with  string.  And  yet  he  wears  a  low- 
crowned,  broad-brimmed,  black  hat  :  faintly  shadowing 
forth  a  kind  of  insane  imitation  of  an  English  coachman  ! 


AMERICAN  NOTES. 


127 


But  somebody  in  authority  cries  "  Go  ahead  !  "  as  I  am  mak- 
ing these  observations.  The  mail  takes  the  lead  in  a  four- 
horse  wagon,  and  all  the  coaches  follow  in  procession  headed 
by  No.  1. 

By  the  way,  whenever  an  Englishman  would  cry  V  All 
right  !  "  an  American  cries  "  Go  ahead  !'"  which  is  some- 
what expressive  of  the  national  character  of  the  two  coun- 


i28  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

"  Pill !  " 

No  effect.  On  the  contrary,  the  coach  begins  to  roll  back 
upon  No.  2,  which  rolls  back  upon  No.  3,  which  rolls  back 
upon  No.  4,  and  so  on  until  No.  7  is  heard  to  curse  and 
swear  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind. 

Black  Driver  (louder  than  before).     '*  Pill  !  " 

Horses  make  another  struggle  to  get  up  the  bank,  and 
again  the  coach  rolls  backward. 

Black  Driver  (louder  than  before).     "  Pe-e-e-ill !  " 

Horses  make  a  desperate  struggle. 

Black  Driver  (recovering  spirits).  u  Hi,  Jiddy,  Jiddy, 
Pill  !  " 

Horses  make  another  effort. 

Black  Driver  (with  great  vigor).  "Ally  Loo!  Hi. 
Jiddy,  Jiddy.     Pill.  ■  Ally  Loo  !  " 

Horses  almost  do  it. 

Black  Driver  (with  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head). 
"  Lee,  den.  Lee,  dere.  Hi.  Jiddy,  Jiddy.  Pill.  Ally  Loo. 
Lee-e-e-e-e  !  " 

They  run  up  the  bank,  and  go  down  again  on  the  other 
side  at  a  fearful  pace.  It  is  impossible  to  stop  them,  and  at 
the  bottom  there  is  a  deep  hollow,  full  of  water.  The  coach 
rolls  frightfully.  The  insides  scream.  The  mud  and  water 
fly  about  us.  The  black  driver  dances  like  a  madman.  Sud- 
denly we  are  all  right  by  some  extraordinary  means,  and 
stop  to  breathe. 

A  black  friend  of  the  black  driver  is  sitting  on  a  fence. 
The  black  driver  recognizes  him  by  twirling  his  head  round 
and  round  like  a  harlequin,  rolling  his  eyes,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  and  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  He  stops  short, 
turns  to  me,  and  says  : 

"We  shall  get  you  through,  sa,  like  a  fiddle,  and  hope  a 
please  you  when  we  get  you  through,  sa.  Old  'ooman  at  home, 
sa  :  "  chuckling  very  much.  *  Outside  gentleman,  sa,  he 
often  remember  old  'ooman  at  home,  sa,"  grinning  again. 

"  Ay  ay,  we'll  take  care  of  the  old  woman.  Don't  be 
afraid." 

The  black  driver  grins  again,  but  there  is  another  hole, 
and  beyond  that,  another  bank,  close  before  us.  So  he  stops 
short :  cries  (to  the  horses  again)  "  Easy.  Easy  den.  Ease. 
Steady.  Hi.  Jiddy.  Pill.  Ally.  Loo,"  but  never  "  Lee  :  " 
until  we  are  reduced  to  the  very  last  extremity,  and  are  in 
the  midst  of  difficulties,  extraction  from  which  appears  to  be 
all  but  impossible. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  129 

And  so  we  do  the  ten  miles  or  thereabout  in  two  hours 
and  a  half  ;  breaking  no  bones,  though  bruising  a  great 
many  ;  and  in  short  getting  through  the  distance,  "  like  a 
fiddled 

This  singular  kind  of  coaching  terminates  at  Fredericks- 
burg, whence  there  is  a  railway  to  Richmond.  The  tract 
of  country  through  which  it  takes  its  course  was  once  pro- 
ductive ;  but  the  soil  has  been  exhausted  by  the  system  of 
employing  a  great  amount  of  slave  labor  in  forcing  crops, 
without  strengthening  the  land  ;  and  it  is  now  little  better 
than  a  sandy  desert  overgrown  with  trees.  Dreary  and 
uninteresting  as  its  aspect  is,  I  was  glad  to  the  heart  to  find 
any  thing  on  which  one  of  the  curses  of  this  horrible  institu- 
tion has  fallen  :  and  had  greater  pleasure  in  contemplating 
the  withered  ground,  than  the  richest  and  most  thriving  cul- 
tivation in  the  same  place  could  possibly  have  afforded  me. 

In  this  district,  as  in  all  others  where  slavery  sits  brood- 
ing (I  have  frequently  heard  this  admitted,  even  by  those 
who  are  its  warmest  advocates),  there  is  an  air  of  ruin 
and  decay  abroad,  which  is  inseparable  from  the  sys- 
tem. The  barns  and  outhouses  are  moldering  away  ;  the 
sheds  are  patched  and  half  roofless  ;  the  log  cabins  (built 
in  Virginia  with  external  chimneys  made  of  clay  or  wood) 
are  squalid  in  the  last  degree.  There  is  no  look  of  decent 
comfort  anywhere.  The  miserable  stations  by  the  railway 
side  ;  the  great  wild  wood-yard,  whence  the  engine  is  sup- 
plied with  fuel  ;  the  negro  children  rolling  on  the  ground 
before  the  cabin  doors  with  dogs  and  pigs  ;  the  biped  beasts  of 
burden  sinking  past  ;   gloom  and  dejection  are  upon  them  all. 

In  the  negro  car  belonging  to  the  train  in  which  we  made 
this  journey,  were  a  mother  and  her  children  who  had  just 
been  purchased  ;  the  husband  and  father  being  left  behind 
with  their  old  owner.  The  children  cried  the  whole  way, 
and  the  mother  was  misery's  picture.  The  champion  of 
life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happineis,  who  had  bought 
them,  rode  in  the  same  train  ;  and,  every  time  we  stopped, 
got  down  to  see  that  they  were  safe.  The  black  in  Sinbad's 
Travels  with  one  eye  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead  which 
shone  like  a  burning  coal,  was  nature's  aristocrat  compared 
with  this  white  gentleman. 

It  was  between  six  and  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when 
we  drove  to  the  hotel :  in  front  of  which,  and  on  the  top  of 
the  broad  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  door,  two  or  three 
citizens  were  balancing  themselves  on  rocking-chairs,  and 


i3o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

smoking  cigars.  We  found  it  a  very  large  and  elegant  estab- 
lishment, and  were  as  well  entertained  as  travelers  need 
desire  to  be.  The  climate  being  a  thirsty  one,  there  was 
never,  at  any  hour  of  the  day,  a  scarcity  of  loungers  in  the 
spacious  bar,  or  a  cessation  of  the  mixing  of  cool  liquors  ; 
but  they  were  a  merrier  people  here,  and  had  musical  instru- 
ments playing  to  them  o'  nights,  which  it  was  a  treat  to  hear 
again. 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  we  rode  and  walked  about 
the  town,  which  is  delightfully  situated  on  eight  hills,  over- 
hanging James  River  ;  a  sparkling  stream,  studded  here  and 
there  with  bright  islands,  or  brawling  over  broken  rocks. 
Although  it  was  yet  but  the  middle  of  March,  the  weather 
in  the  southern  temperature  was  extremely  warm,  the  peach- 
trees  and  magnolias  were  in  full  bloom  ;  and  the  trees  were 
green.  In  a  low  ground  among  the  hills,  is  a  valley  known 
as  "  Bloody  Run,"  from  a  terrible  conflict  with  the  Indians 
which  once  occurred  there.  It  is  a  good  place  for  such  a 
struggle,  and,  like  every  other  spot  I  saw  associated  with 
any  legend  of  that  wild  people  now  so  rapidly  fading  from 
the  earth,  interested  me  very  much. 

The  city  is  the  seat  of  the  local  parliament  of  Virginia  ; 
and  in  its  shady  legislative  halls,  some  orators  were  drowsily 
holding  forth  to  the  hot  noonday.  By  dint  of  constant  rep- 
etition, however,  these  constitutional  sights  had  very  little 
more  interest  for  me  than  so  many  parochial  vestries  ;  and 
I  was  glad  to  exchange  this  one  for  a  lounge  in  a  well- 
arranged  public  library  of  some  ten  thousand  volumes,  and  a 
visit  to  a  tobacco  manufactory,  where  the  workmen  were  all 
slaves. 

I  saw  in  this  place  the  whole  process  of  picking,  rolling, 
pressing,  drying,  packing  in  casks,  and  branding.  All  the 
tobacco  thus  dealt  with,  was  in  course  of  manufacture  for 
chewing  ;  and  one  would  have  supposed  there  was  enough 
in  that  one  store-house  to  have  filled  even  the  comprehensive 
jaws  of  America.  In  this  form,  the  weed  looks  like  an  oil- 
cake on  which  we  fatten  cattle  ;  and,  even  without  reference 
to  its  consequences,  is  sufficiently  uninviting. 

Many  of  the  workmen  appeared  to  be  strong  men,  and  it 
is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  they  were  all  laboring  quietly 
then.  After  two  o'clock  in  the  day  they  are  allowed  to  sing, 
a  certain  number  at  a  time.  The  hour  striking  while  I  was 
there,  some  twenty  sung  a  hymn  in  parts,  and  sung  it  by 
no  means  ill ;  pursuing  their  work  meanwhile.     A  bell  rang 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  131 

as  I  was  about  to  leave,  and  they  all  poured  forth  into  a 
building  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  to  dinner.  I  said 
several  times  that  I  should  like  to  see  them  at  their  meal ; 
but  as  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  mentioned  this  desire  ap- 
peared to  be  suddenly  taken  deaf,  I  did  not  pursue  the  re- 
quest. Of  their  appearance  I  shall  have  something  to  say. 
presently. 

On  the  following  day,  I  visited  a  plantation  or  farm,  of 
about  twelve  hundred  acres,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river.  Here  again,  although  I  went  down  with  the  owner  of 
the  estate,  to  "  the  quarter,"  as  that  part  of  it  in  which  the 
slaves  live  is  called,  I  was  not  invited  to  enter  into  any  of 
their  huts.  All  I  saw  of  them,  was,  that  they  were  very 
crazy,  wretched  cabins,  near  to  which  groups  of  half-naked 
children  basked  in  the  sun  or  wallowed  on  the  dusty  ground. 
But  I  believe  that  this  gentleman  is  a  considerate  and  ex- 
cellent master,  who  inherited  his  fifty  slaves,  and  is  neither  a 
buyer  nor  seller  of  human  stock  ;  and  I  am  sure,  from  my  own 
observation  and  conviction,  that  he  is  a  kind-hearted,  worthy 
man. 

The  planter's  house  was  an  airy,  rustic  dwelling,  that 
brought  Defoe's  description  of  such  places  strongly  to  my 
recollection.  The  day  was  very  warm,  but  the  blinds  being 
all  closed,  and  the  windows  and  doors  set  wide  open,  a 
shady  coolness  rustled  through  the  rooms,  which  was  ex- 
quisitely refreshing  after  the  glare  and  heat  without.  Before 
the  windows  was  an  open  piazza,  where,  in  what  they  call 
the  hot  weather — whatever  that  may  be — they  swing  ham- 
mocks, and  drink  and  doze  luxuriously.  I  don't  know  how 
their  cool  refections  may  taste  within  the  hammocks,  but, 
having  experience,  I  can  report  that,  out  of  them,  the  mound 
of  ices  and  the  bowls  of  mint-julep  and  sherry-cobbler  they 
make  in  these  latitudes,  are  refreshments  never  to  be  thought 
of  afterward,  in  summer,  by  those  who  would  preserve  con- 
tented minds. 

There  are  two  bridges  across  the  river  :  one  belongs  to 
the  railroad,  and  the  other,  which  is  a  very  crazy  affair,  is 
the  private  property  of  some  old  lady  in  the  neighborhood, 
who  levies  tolls  upon  the  towns-people.  Crossing  this  bridge, 
on  my  way  back,  I  saw  a  notice  painted  on  the  gate,  cau- 
tioning all  persons  to  drive  slowly  ;  under  a  penalty,  if  the 
offender  were  a  white  man,  of  five  dollars  ;  if  a  negro,  fifteen 
stripes. 

The  same  decay  and  gloom  that  overhung  the  way  by 


132  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

which  it  is  approached,  hover  above  the  town  of  Richmond. 
There  are  pretty  villas  and  cheerful  houses  in  its  streets,  and 
nature  smiles  upon  the  country  round  ;  but  jostling  its  hand- 
some residences,  like  slavery  itself  going  hand  in  hand  with 
many  lofty  virtues,  are  deplorable  tenements,  fences  unre  • 
paired,walls  crumbling  into  ruinous  heaps.  Hinting  gloomily 
at  things  below  the  surface,  these  and  many  other  tokens  of 
the  same  description,  force  themselves  upon  the  notice,  and 
are  remembered  with  depressing  influence,  when  livelier 
features  are  forgotten. 

To  those  who  are  happily  unaccustomed  to  them,  the 
countenances  in  the  streets  and  laboring-places,  too,  are 
shocking.  All  men  who  know  that  there  are  laws  against  in- 
structing slaves,  of  which  the  pains  and  penalties  greatly  ex- 
ceed in  their  amount  the  fines  imposed  on  those  who  maim 
and  torture  them,  must  be  prepared  to  find  their  faces  very 
low  in  the  scale  of  intellectual  expression.  But  the  darkness 
— not  of  skin  but  mind — which  meets  the  stranger's  eye 
at  every  turn  ;  the  brutalizing  and  blotting  out  of  all  fairer 
characters  traced  by  nature's  hand  ;  immeasurably  outdo  his 
worst  belief.  That  traveled  creation  of  the  great  satirist's 
brain,  who,  fresh  from  living  among  horses,  peered  from  a 
high  casement  down  upon  his  own  kind  with  trembling  hor- 
ror, was  scarcely  more  repelled  and  daunted  by  the  sight, 
than  those  who  look  upon  some  of  these  faces  for  the  first 
time  must  surely  be. 

I  left  the  last  of  them  behind  me  in  the  person  of  a 
wretched  drudge,  who,  after  running  to  and  fro  all  day  till 
midnight,  and  moping  in  his  stealthy  winks  of  sleep  upon  the 
stairs  between  whiles,  was  washing  the  dark  passages  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  ;  and  went  upon  my  way  with  a  grate- 
ful heart  that  I  was  not  doomed  to  live  where  slavery  was, 
and  had  never  had  my  senses  blunted  to  its  wrongs  and  hor- 
rors in  a  slave-rocked  cradle. 

It  had  been  my  intention  to  proceed  by  James  River  and 
Chesapeake  Bay  to  Baltimore  ;  but  one  of  the  steamboats 
being  absent  from  her  station  through  some  accident,  and 
the  means  of  conveyance  being  consequently  rendered  uncer- 
tain, we  returned  to  Washington  by  the  way  we  had  come 
(there  were  two  constables  on  board  the  steamboat,  in  pur- 
suit of  runaway  slaves),  and  halting  there  again  for  one  night, 
went  on  to  Baltimore  next  afternoon. 

The  most  comfortable  of  all  the  hotels  of  which  I  had  any 
experience  in  the  United  States,  and  they  were  not  a  few,  is 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  I33 

Barnura's,  in  that  city  :  where  the  English  traveler  will  find 
curtains  to  his  bed,  for  the  first  and  probably  the  last  time 
in  America  (this  is  a  disinterested  remark,  for  I  never  used 
them) ;  and  where  he  will  be  likely  to  have  enough  water  for 
washing  himself,  which  is  not  at  all  a  common  case. 

This  capital  of  the  State  of  Maryland  is  a  bustling,  busy 
town,  with  a  great  deal  of  traffic  of  various  kinds  and  in 
particular  of  water  commerce.  That  portion  of  the  town 
which  it  most  favors  is  none  of  the  cleanest,  it  is  true  ;  but 
the  upper  part  is  of  a  very  different  character,  and  has  many 
agreeable  streets  and  public  buildings.  The  Washington 
Monument,  which  is  a  handsome  pillar  with  a  statue  on  its 
summit  ;  the  Medical  College  ;  and  the  Battle  Monument  in 
memory  of  an  engagement  with  the  British  at  North  Point, 
are  the  most  conspicuous  among  them. 

There  is  a  very  good  prison  in  this  city,  and  the  State 
Penitentiary  is  also  among  its  institutions.  In  this  latter 
establishment  there  were  two  curious  cases. 

One  was  that  of  a  young  man,  who  had  been  tried  for  the 
murder  of  his  father.  The  evidence  was  entirely  circumstan- 
tial, and  was  very  conflicting  and  doubtful  ;  nor  was  it  pos- 
sible to  assign  any  motive  which  could  have  tempted  him  to 
the  commission  of  so  tremendous  a  crime.  He  had  been 
tried  twice  ;  and  on  the  second  occasion  the  jury  felt  so  much 
hesitation  in  convicting  him,  that  they  found  a  verdict  of 
manslaughter,  or  murder  in  the  second  degree  ;  which  it 
could  not  possibly  be,  as  there  had,  beyond  all  doubt,  been 
no  quarrel  or  provocation,  and  if  he  were  guilty  at  all,  he 
was  unquestionably  guilty  of  murder  in  its  broadest  and 
worst  signification. 

The  remarkable  feature  in  the  case  was,  that  if  the  unfor- 
tunate deceased  were  not  really  murdered  by  this  own  son  of 
his,  he  must  have  been  murdered  by  his  own  brother.  The 
evidence  lay,  in  a  most  remarkable  manner,  between  those 
two.  On  all  the  suspicious  points,  the  dead  man's  brother 
was  the  witness  :  all  the  explanations  for  the  prisoner  (some 
of  them  extremely  plausible)  went,  by  construction  and 
inference,  to  inculpate  him  as  plotting  to  fix  the  guilt  upon 
his  nephew.  It  must  have  been  one  of  them  :  and  the  jury 
had  to  decide  between  two  sets  of  suspicions,  almost  equally 
unnatural,  unaccountable,  and  strange. 

The  other  case  was  that  of  a  man  who  once  went  to  a 
certain  distiller's  and  stole  a  copper  measure  containing  a 
quantity  of  liquor.     He  was  pursued  and  taken  with  the 


134  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

property  in  his  possesion,  and  was  sentenced  to  two  Years1 
imprisonment.  On  coming  out  of  the  jail,  at  the  expiration 
of  that  term,  he  went  back  to  the  same  distiller's  and  stole 
the  same  copper  measure  containing  the  same  quantity  of 
liquor.  There  was  not  the  slightest  reason  to  suppose  that 
the  man  wished  to  return  to  prison  :  indeed  every  thing,  but 
the  commission  of  the  offense,  made  directly  against  that 
assumption.  There  are  only  two  ways  of  accounting  for 
this  extraordinary  proceeding.  One  is,  that  after  undergo- 
ing so  much  for  this  copper  measure  he  conceived  he  had 
established  a  sort  of  claim  and  right  to  it.  The  other  that, 
by  dint  of  long  thinking  about,  it  had  become  a  monomania 
with  him,  and  had  acquired  a  fascination  which  he  found  it 
impossible  to  resist :  swelling  from  an  earthly  copper  gallon 
into  an  ethereal  golden  vat. 

After  remaining  here  a  couple  of  days  I  bound  myself  t6 
a  rigid  adherence  to  the  plan  I  had  laid  down  so  recently, 
and  resolved  to  set  forward  on  our  western  journey  without 
any  more  delay.  Accordingly,  having  reduced  the  luggage 
within  the  smallest  possible  compass  (by  sending  back  to 
New  York,  to  be  afterward  forwarded  to  us  in  Canada,  so 
much  of  it  as  was  not  absolutely  wanted)  ;  and  having  pro- 
cured the  necessary  credentials  to  banking-houses  on  the 
way  ;  and  having  moreover  looked  for  two  evenings  at  the 
setting  sun,  with  as  well  defined  an  idea  of  the  country 
before  us  as  if  we  had  been  going  to  travel  into  the  very 
center  of  that  planet  :  we  left  Baltimore  by  another  railway 
at  half  past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  reached  the  town  of 
York,  some  sixty  miles  off,  by  the  early  dinner-time  of  the 
hotel  which  was  the  starting-place  of  the  four-horse  coach, 
wherein  we  were  to  proceed  to  Harrisburg. 

This  conveyance,  the  box  of  which  I  was  fortunate  enough 
to  secure,  had  come  down  to  meet  us  at  the  railroad  station, 
and  was  as  muddy  and  cumbersome  as  usual.  As  more 
passengers  were  waiting  for  us  at  the  inn-door,  the  coach- 
man observed  under  his  breath,  in  the  usual  self-communi- 
cative voice,  looking  the  while  at  his  moldy  harness  as  if 
it  were  to  that  he  was  addressing  himself, 

"  I  expect  we  shall  want  the  big  coach." 

I  could  not  help  wondering  within  myself  what  the  size 
of  this  big  coach  might  be,  and  how  many  persons  it  might 
be  designed  to  hold  ;  for  the  vehicle  which  was  too  small 
for  our  purpose  was  something  larger  than  two  English 
heavy  night  coaches,  and  might  have  been  the  twin-brother 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  135 

of  the  French  diligence.  My  speculations  were  speedily  set 
at  rest,  however,  for  as  soon  as  we  had  dined,  there  came 
rumbling  up  the  street,  shaking  its  sides  like  a  corpulent 
giant,  a  kind  of  barge  on  wheels.  After  much  blundering 
and  backing,  it  stopped  at  the  door  ;  rolling  heavily  from 
side  to  side  when  its  other  motion  had  ceased,  as  if  it  had 
taken  cold  in  its  damp  stable,  and  between  that,  and  the 
having  been  required  in  its  dropsical  old  age  to  move  at 
any  faster  pace  than  a  walk,  were  distressed  by  shortness  of 
wind. 

"  If  here  ain't  the  Harrisburg  mail  at  last,  and  dreadful 
bright  and  smart  to  look  at  too,"  cried  an  elderly  gentleman 
in  some  excitement,  "  darn  my  mother." 

I  don't  know  what  the  sensation  of  being  darned  may  be, 
or  whether  a  man's  mother  has  a  keener  relish  or  disrelish 
of  the  process  than  any  body  else  ;  but  if  the  endurance  of 
this  mysterious  ceremony  by  the  old  lady  in  question  had 
depended  on  the  accuracy  of  her  son's  vision  in  respect  to 
the  abstract  brightness  and  smartness  of  the  Harrisburg 
mail,  she  would  certainly  have  undergone  its  infliction. 
However,  they  booked  twelve  people  inside  ;  and  the  lug- 
gage (including  such  trifles  as  a  large  rocking-chair,  and  a 
good-sized  dining-table)  being  at  length  made  fast  upon  the 
roof,  we  started  off  in  great  state. 

At  the  door  of  another  hotel,  there  was  another  passenger 
to  be  taken  up. 

"  Any  room,  sir,"  cries  the  new  passenger  to  the  coach- 
man. 

"  Well,  there's  room  enough,"  replies  the  coachman,  with- 
out getting  down,  or  even  looking  at  him. 

"  There  ain't  no  room  at  all,  sir,"  bawls  a  gentleman  in- 
side. Which  another  gentleman  (also  inside)  confirms,  by 
predicting  that  the  attempt  to  introduce  any  more  passen- 
gers "  won't  fit  nohow." 

The  new  passenger,  without  any  expression  of  anxiety, 
looks  into  the  coach,  and  then  looks  up  at  the  coachman  : 
"  Now,  how  do  you  mean  to  fix  it  ?  "  says  he,  after  a  pause  : 
*  for  I  must  go." 

The  coachman  employs  himself  in  twisting  the  lash  of  his 
whip  into  a  knot,  and  takes  no  more  notice  of  the  question  ; 
clearly  signifying  that  it  is  any  body's  business  but  his,  and 
that  the  passengers  would  do  well  to  fix  it  among  them- 
selves. In  this  state  of  things,  matters  seem  to  be  approxi- 
mating to  a  fix  of  another  kind,  when  another  inside  passen- 


136  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

ger  in  a  corner,  who  is  nearly  suffocated,  cries  faintly,  "  I'll 
get  out." 

This  is  no  matter  of  relief  or  self-congratulation  to  the 
driver,  for  his  immovable  philosophy  is  perfectly  undis- 
turbed by  any  thing  that  happens  in  the  coach.  Of  all 
things  in  the  world,  the  coach  would  seem  to  be  the  very 
last  upon  his  mind.  The  exchange  is  made,  however,  and 
then  the  passenger  who  had  given  up  his  seat  makes  a  third 
upon  the  box,  seating  himself  in  what  he  calls  the  middle  ; 
that  is,  with  half  his  person  on  my  legs,  and  the  other  half 
on  the  driver's. 

"  Go  a-head  cap'en,"  cries  the  colonel,  who  directs. 

"  G6-lang  !  "  cried  the  cap'en  to  his  company,  the  horses, 
and  away  we  go. 

We  took  up  at  a  rural  bar-room,  after  we  had  gone  a  few 
miles,  an  intoxicated  gentleman  who  climbed  upon  the  roof 
among  the  luggage,  and  subsequently  slipping  off  without 
hurting  himself,  was  seen  in  the  distant  perspective  reeling 
back  to  the  grog-shop  where  we  had  found  him.  We  also 
parted  with  more  of  our  freight  at  different  times,  so  that 
when  we  came  to  change  horses,  I  was  again  alone  outside. 

The  coachmen  always  change  with  the  horses,  and  are 
usually  as  dirty  as  the  coach.  The  first  was  dressed  like  a 
very  shabby  English  baker  ;  the  second  like  a  Russian  peas- 
ant ;  for  he  wore  a  loose  purple  camlet  robe,  with  a  fur  collar, 
tied  round  his  waist  with  a  party-colored  worsted  sash  ;  gray 
trowsers  ;  light-blue  gloves  ;  and  a  cap  of  bear-skin.  It  had 
by  this  time  come  on  to  rain  very  heavily,  and  there  was 
a  cold  damp  mist  besides,  which  penetrated  to  the  skin.  I 
was  glad  to  take  advantage  of  a  stoppage  and  get  down  to 
stretch  my  legs,  shake  the  water  off  my  great-coat,  and 
swallow  the  usual  anti-temperance  recipe  for  keeping  out 
the  cold. 

When  I  mounted  to  my  seat  again,  I  observed  a  new  par- 
cel lying  on  the  coach  roof,  which  I  took  to  be  a  rather  large 
fiddle  in  a  brown  bag.  In  the  course  of  a  few  miles,  how- 
ever, I  discovered  that  it  had  a  glazed  cap  at  one  end  and  a 
pair  of  muddy  shoes  at  the  other  ;  and  further  observation 
demonstrated  it  to  be  a  small  boy  in  a  snuff-colored  coat, 
with  his  arms  quite  pinioned  to  his  sides,  by  deep  forcing 
into  his  pockets.  He  was,  I  presume,  a  relative  or  friend  of 
the  coachman's,  as  he  lay  a-top  of  the  luggage  with  his  face 
toward  the  rain  ;  and  except  when  a  change  of  position 
brought  his  shoes  in  contact  with  my  hat,  he  appeared  to  be 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  137 

asleep.  At  last,  on  some  occasion  of  our  stopping,  this  thing 
slowly  upreared  itself  to  the  height  of  three  feet  six,  and  fix- 
ing its  eyes  on  me,  observed  in  piping  accents,  with  a  com- 
plaisant yawn,  half  quenched  in  an  obliging  air  of  friendly 
patronage,  "  Well  now,  stranger,  I  guess  you  find  this  a'most 
like  an  English  arternoon,  hey  ?" 

The  scenery,  which  had  been  tame  enough  at  first,  was, 
for  the  last  ten  or  twelve  miles,  beautiful.  Our  road  wound 
through  the  pleasant  valley  of  the  Susquehanna  ;  the  river, 
dotted  with  innumerable  green  islands,  lay  upon  our  right ; 
and  on  the  left,  a  steep  ascent,  craggy  with  broken  rock,  and 
dark  with  pine  trees.  The  mist,  wreathing  itself  into  a  hun- 
dred fantastic  shapes,  moved  solemnly  upon  the  water  ;  and 
the  gloom  of  evening  gave  to  all  an  air  of  mystery  and 
silence  which  greatly  enhanced  its  natural  interest. 

We  crossed  the  river  by  a  wooden  bridge,  roofed  and 
covered  on  all  sides,  and  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  It  was 
profoundly  dark  ;  perplexed,  with  great  beams,  crossing  and 
recrossing  it  at  every  possible  angle  ;  and  through  the  broad 
chinks  and  crevices  in  the  floor,  the  rapid  river  gleamed,  far 
down  below,  like  a  legion  of  eyes.  We  had  no  lamps  ;  and 
as  the  horses  stumbled  and  floundered  through  this  place, 
toward  the  distant  speck  of  dying  light,  it  seemed  intermin- 
able. I  really  could  not  at  first  persuade  myself  as  we 
rumbled  heavily  on,  filling  the  bridge  with  hollow  noises, 
and  I  held  down  my  head  to  save  it  from  the  rafters  above, 
but  that  I  was  in  a  painful  dream  ;  for  I  have  often  dreamed 
of  toiling  through  such  places,  and  as  often  argued,  even  at 
the  time,  "  this  can  not  be  reality." 

At  length,  however,  we  emerged  upon  the  streets  of  Har- 
risburg,  whose  feeble  lights,  reflected  dismally  from  the  wet 
ground,  did  not  shine  out  upon  a  very  cheerful  city.  We 
were  soon  established  in  a  snug  hotel,  which  though  smaller 
and  far  less  splendid  than  many  we  put  up  at,  is  raised  above 
them  all  in  my  remembrance,  by  having  for  its  landlord  the 
most  obliging,  considerate,  and  gentlemanly  person  I  ever 
had  to  deal  with. 

As  we  were  not  to  proceed  upon  our  journey  until  the 
afternoon,  I  walked  out,  after  breakfast  the  next  morning,  to 
look  about  me  ;  and  was  duly  shown  a  model  prison  on  the 
solitary  system,  just  erected,  as  yet  without  an  inmate  ;  the 
trunk  of  an  old  tree  to  which  Harris,  the  first  settler  here 
(afterward  buried  under  it),  was  tied  by  hostile  Indians, 
with  his  funeral  pile  about  him,  when  he  was  saved  by  the 


i3»  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

timely  appearance  of  a  friendly  party  on  the  opposite  shore 
of  the  river  ;  the  local  legislature  (for  there  was  another  of 
those  bodies  here  again,  in  full  debate)  ;  and  the  other  curi- 
osities of  the  town. 

I  was  very  much  interested  in  looking  over  a  number  of 
treaties  made  from  time  to  time  with  the  poor  Indians, 
signed  by  the  different  chiefs  at  the  period  of  their  ratifica- 
tion, and  preserved  in  the  office  of  the  secretary  to  the  com- 
monwealth. These  signatures,  traced  of  course  by  their 
own  hands,  are  rough  drawings  of  the  creatures  or  weapons 
they  were  called  after.  Thus,  the  Great  Turtle  makes  a 
crooked  pen-and-ink  outline  of  a  great  turtle  ;  the  Buffalo 
sketches  a  buffalo  ;  the  War  Hatchet  sets  a  rough  image  of 
that  weapon  for  his  mark.  So  with  the  Arrow,  the  Fish,  the 
Scalp,  the  Big  Canoe,  and  all  of  them. 

I  could  not  but  think — as  I  looked  at  these  feeble  and 
tremulous  productions  of  hands  which  could  draw  the  longest 
arrow  to  the  head  in  a  stout  elk-horn  bow,  or  split  a  bead  or 
feather  with  a  rifle-ball — of  Crabbe's  musings  over  the  parish 
register,  and  the  irregular  scratches  made  with  a  pen,  by 
men  who  would  plow  a  lengthy  furrow  straight  from  end 
to  end.  Nor  could  I  help  bestowing  many  sorrowful 
thoughts  upon  the  simple  warriors  whose  hands  and  hearts 
were  set  there,  in  all  truth  and  honesty ;  and  who  only 
learned  in  course  of  time  from  white  men  how  to  break  their 
faith,  and  quibble  out  of  forms  and  bonds.  I  wondered, 
too,  how  many  times  the  credulous  Big  Turtle,  or  trusting 
Little  Hatchet,  had  put  his  mark  to  treaties  which  were 
falsely  read  to  him  ;  and  had  signed  away,  he  knew  not 
what,  until  it  went  and  cast  him  loose  upon  the  new  posses- 
sors of  the  land,  a  savage  indeed. 

Our  host  announced,  before  our  early  dinner,  that  some 
members  of  the  legislative  body  proposed  to  do  us  the  honor 
of  calling.  He  had  kindly  yielded  up  to  us  his  wife's  own 
little  parlor,  and  when  I  begged  that  he  would  show  them  in, 
I  saw  him  look  with  painful  apprehension  at  its  pretty  car- 
pet ;  though,  being  otherwise  occupied  at  the  time,  the  cause 
of  his  uneasiness  did  not  occur  to  me. 

It  certainly  would  have  been  more  pleasant  to  all  parties 
concerned,  and  would  not,  I  think,  have  compromised 
their  independence  in  any  material  degree,  if  some  of 
these  gentlemen  had  not  only  yielded  to  the  prejudice  in 
favor  of  spittoons,  but  had  abandoned  themselves,  for  the 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  ,39 

moment,  even  to  the  conventional  absurdity  of  pocket- 
handkerchiefs. 

It  snll  continued  to  rain  heavily,  and  when  we  went  down 
to  the  canal  boat  (for  that  was  the  mode  of  conveyance  by 
which  we  were  to  proceed)  after  dinner,  the  weather  was 
as  unpromising  and  obstinately  wet  as  one  would  desire 
to  see.  Nor  was  the  sight  of  this  canal  boat,  in  which  we 
were  to  spend  three  or  four  days,  by  any  means  a  cheerful 
one  ;  as  it  involved  some  uneasy  speculations  concerning 
the  disposal  of  the  passengers  at  night,  and  opened  a  wide 
field  of  inquiry  touching  the  other  domestic  arrangements  of 
the  establishment,  which  was  sufficiently  disconcerting. 

However,  there  it  was — a  barge  with  a  little  house  in  it, 
viewed  from  the  outside  ;  and  a  caravan  at  a  fair,  viewed 
from  within  :  the  gentleman  being  accommodated,  as  the 
spectators  usually  are,  in  one  of  those  locomotive  museums 
of  penny  wonders  ;  and  the  ladies  being  partitioned  off  by 
a  red  curtain,  after  the  manner  of  the  dwarfs  and  giants  in 
the  same  establishment,  whose  private  lives  are  passed  in 
rather  close  exclusiveness. 

We  sat  here,  looking  silently  at  the  row  of  little  tables, 
which  extended  down  both  sides  ot  the  cabin,  and  listening 
to  the  rain  as  it  dripped  and  pattered  on  the  boat,  and 
plashed  with  a  dismal  merriment  in  the  water,  until  the  ar- 
rival of  the  railway  train,  for  whose  final  contribution  to  our 
stock  of  passengers,  our  departure  was  alone  deferred.  It 
-brought  a  great  many  boxes,  which  were  bumped  and  tossed 
upon  the  roof,  almost  as  painfully  as  if  they  had  been  de- 
posited on  one's  own  head,  without  the  intervention  of  a 
porter's  knot  ;  and  several  damp  gentlemen,  whose  clothes, 
on  their  drawing  round  the  stove,  began  to  steam  again. 
No  doubt  it  would  have  been  a  thought  more  comfortable 
if  the  driving  rain,  which  now  poured  down  more  soakingly 
than  ever,  had  admitted  of  a  window  being  opened,  or  if  our 
number  had  been  something  less  than  thirty  ;  but  there  was 
scarcely  time  to  think  as  much,  when  a  train  of  three  horses 
was  attached  to  the  tow-rope,  the  boy  upon  the  leader 
smacked  his  whip,  the  rudder  creaked  and  groaned  com- 
plainingly,  and  we  had  begun  our  journey. 


Ho  AMERICAN  NOTES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SOME    FURTHER    ACCOUNT     OF     THE     CANAL-BOAT,    ITS    DO- 
MESTIC   ECONOMY,    AND     ITS    PASSENGERS. JOURNEY     TO 

PITTSBURG      ACROSS      THE      ALLEGHANY      MOUNTAINS. — 
PITTSBURG. 

As  it  continued  to  rain  most  perseveringly,  we  all  re- 
mained below  :  the  damp  gentlemen  round  the  stove,  grad- 
ually becoming  mildewed  by  the  action  of  the  fire  ;  and  the 
dry  gentlemen  lying  at  full  length  upon  the  seats,  or  slumber- 
ing uneasily  with  their  faces  on  the  tables,  or  walking  up 
and  down  the  cabin,  which  it  was  barely  possible  for  a  man 
of  the  middle  height  to  do,  without  making  bald  places  on 
his  head  by  scraping  it  against  the  roof.  At  about  six  o'clock, 
all  the  small  tables  were  put  together  to  form  one  long  table, 
and  every  body  sat  down  to  tea,  coffee,  bread,  butter, 
salmon,  shad,  liver,  steaks,  potatoes,  pickles,  ham,  chops, 
black  puddings,  and  sausages. 

"  Will  you  try,"  said  my  opposite  neighbor,  handing  me  a 
dish  of  potatoes,  broken  up  in  milk  and  butter,  "  will  you 
try  some  of  these  fixings  ?  " 

There  are  few  words  which  perform  such  various  duties  as 
this  word  u  fix."  It  is  the  Caleb  Quotem  of  the  American 
vocabulary.  You  call  upon  a  gentleman  in  a  country  town, 
and  his  help  informs  you  that  he  is  "  fixing  himself  "  just  now 
but  will  be  down  directly  :  by  which  you  are  to  understand 
that  he  is  dressing.  You  inquire  on  board  a  steamboat,  of  a 
fellow-passenger,  whether  breakfast  will  be  ready  soon,  and 
he  tells  you  that  he  should  think  so,  for  when  he  was  last 
below,  they  were  "fixing  the  tables  :  "  in  other  words,  laying 
the  cloth.  You  beg  a  porter  to  collect  your  luggage,  and 
he  entreats  you  not  to  be  uneasy,  for  he'll  "  fix  it  presently," 
and  if  you  complain  of  indisposition,  you  are  advised  to 
have  recourse  to  Doctor  So-and-so,  who  will "  fix  you  "  in  no 
time. 

One  night,  I  ordered  a  bottle  of  mulled  wine  at  an  hotel 
where  I  was  staying,  and  waited  a  long  time  for  it  ;  at  length 
it  was  put  upon  the  table  with  an  apology  from  the  landlord 
that  he  feared  it  wasn't  "fixed  properly."  And  I  recollect 
once,  at  a  stage-coach  dinner,  overhearing  a  very  stern  gen- 
tleman demand  of  a  waiter  who  presented  him  with  a  plate 
of  underdone  roast-beef,  "  whether  he  called  that,  fixing  God 
A'mighty's  vittles  ?  " 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  141 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  meal,  at  which  the  invitation 
was  tendered  to  me  which  has  occasioned  this  digression, 
was  disposed  of  somewhat  ravenously  ;  and  that  the  gentle- 
men thrust  the  broad-bladed  knives  and  the  two-pronged 
forks  further  down  their  throats  than  I  ever  saw  the  same 
weapons  before,  except  in  the  hands  of  a  skillful  juggler  ; 
but  no  man  sat  down  until  the  ladies  were  seated  ;  or  omit- 
ted any  little  act  of  politeness  which  could  contribute  to 
their  comfort.  Nor  did  I  ever  once,  on  any  occasion,  any- 
where, during  my  rambles  in  America,  see  a  woman  exposed 
to  the  slightest  act  of  rudeness,  incivility,  or  even  inattention. 

By  the  time  the  meal  was  over,  the  rain,  which  seemed  to 
have  worn  itself  out  by  coming  down  so  fast,  was  nearly 
over  too  ;  and  it  became  feasible  to  go  on  deck,  which  was 
a  great  relief,  notwithstanding  its  being  a  very  small  deck, 
and  being  rendered  still  smaller  by  the  luggage,  which  was 
heaped  together  in  the  middle  under  a  tarpaulin  covering  ; 
leaving,  on  either  side,  a  path  so  narrow,  that  it  became  a 
science  to  walk  to  and  fro  without  tumbling  overboard  into 
the  canal.  It  was  somewhat  embarrassing  at  first,  too,  to 
have  to  duck  nimbly  every  five  minutes  whenever  the  man 
at  the  helm  cried  "Bridge  !  "  and  sometimes  when  the  cry 
was  "  Low  bridge,"  to  lie  down  nearly  flat.  But  custom  fam- 
iliarizes one  to  any  thing,  and  there  were  so  many  bridges 
that  it  took  a  very  short  time  to  get  used  to  this. 

As  night  came  on,  and  we  drew  in  sight  of  the  first  range 
of  hills,  which  are  the  outposts  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains, 
the  scenery,  which  had  been  uninteresting  hitherto,  became 
more  bold  and  striking.  The  wet  ground  reeked  and 
smoked,  after  the  heavy  fall  of  rain  ;  and  the  croaking 
of  the  frogs  (whose  noise  in  these  parts  is  almost  incredible) 
sounded  as  though  a  million  of  fairy  teams  with  bells,  were 
traveling  through  the  air,  and  keeping  pace  with  us.  The 
night  was  cloudy  yet,  but  moonlight  too  ;  and  when  we 
crossed  the  Susquehanna  River — over  which  there  is  an  ex- 
traordinary wooden  bridge  with  two  galleries,  one  above  the 
other,  so  that  even  there,  two  boat  teams  meeting,  may  pass 
without  confusion — it  was  wild  and  grand. 

I  have  mentioned  my  having  been  in  some  uncertainty  and 
doubt,  at  first,  relative  to  the  sleeping  arrangements  on 
board  this  boat.  I  remained  in  the  same  vague  state  of 
mind  until  ten  o'clock  or  thereabout,  when  going  below,  I 
found  suspended  on  either  side  of  the  cabin,  three  long  tiers 
of  hanging  book-shelves,  designed  apparently  for  volumes  of 


142  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  small  octavo  size.  Looking  with  greater  attention  at 
these  contrivances  (wondering  to  find  such  literary  prepara- 
tions in  such  a  place),  I  descried  on  each  shelf  a  sort  of  mi- 
croscopic sheet  and  blanket  ;  then  I  began  dimly  to  compre- 
hend that  the  passengers  were  the  library,  and  that  they 
were  to  be  arranged,  edge-wise,  on  these  shelves,  till  morning. 

I  was  assisted  to  this  conclusion  by  seeing  some  of  them 
gathered  round  the  master  of  the  boat,  at  one  of  the  tables, 
drawing  lots  with  all  the  anxieties  and  passions  of  gamesters 
depicted  in  their  countenances  ;  while  others,  with  small 
pieces  of  card-board  in  their  hands,  were  groping  among  the 
shelves  in  search  of  numbers  corresponding  with  those  they 
had  drawn.  As  soon  as  any  gentleman  found  his  number, 
he  took  possession  of  it  by  immediately  undressing  himself 
and  crawling  into  bed.  The  rapidity  with  which  an  agitated 
gambler  subsided  into  a  snoring  slumberer,  was  one  of  the 
most  singular  effects  I  have  ever  witnessed.  As  to  the 
the  ladies  they  were  already  abed,  behind  the  red  curtain, 
which  was  carefully  drawn  and  pinned  up  the  center  ; 
though  as  every  cough,  or  sneeze,  or  whisper,  behind  this 
curtain,  was  perfectly  audible  before  it,  we  had  still  a  lively 
consciousness  of  their  society. 

The  politeness  of  the  person  in  authority  had  secured  to 
me  a  shelf  in  a  nook  near  this  red  curtain,  in  some  degree 
removed  from  the  great  body  of  sleepers  :  to  which  place  I 
retired  with  many  acknowledgments  to  him  for  his  atten- 
tion. I  found  it,  on  after-measurement,  just  the  width  of 
an  ordinary  sheet  of  Bath  post  letter-paper,  and  I  was  at 
first  in  some  uncertainty  as  to  the  best  means  of  getting  into 
it.  But  the  shelf  being  a  bottom  one,  I  finally  determined 
on  lying  upon  the  floor,  rolling  gently  in,  stopping  immedi- 
ately I  touched  the  mattress,  and  remaining  for  the  night 
with  that  side  uppermost,  whatever  it  might  be.  Luckily, 
I  came  upon  my  back  at  exactly  the  right  moment.  I  was 
much  alarmed  on  looking  upward,  to  see,  by  the  shape  of 
his  half  yard  of  sacking  (which  his  weight  had  bent  into  an 
exceedingly  tight  bag),  that  there  was  a  very  heavy  gentle- 
man above  me,  whom  the  slender  cords  seemed  quite  in- 
capable of  holding  ;  and  I  could  not  help  reflecting  upon 
the  grief  of  my  wife  and  family  in  the  event  of  his  coming 
down  in  the  night.  But  as  I  could  not  have  got  up  again 
without  a  severe  bodily  struggle,  which  might  have  alarmed 
the  ladies,  and  as  I  had  nowhere*  to  go  to,  even  if  I  had,  I 
shut  my  eyes  upon  the  danger,  and  remained  there. 


AMERICAN  NOTES,  143 

One  of  two  remarkable  circumstances  is  undisputably  a 
fact,  with  reference  to  that  class  of  society  who  travel  in 
those  boats.  Either  they  carry  their  restlessness  to  such  a 
pitch  that  they  never  sleep  at  all,  or  they  expectorate  in 
dreams,  which  would  be  a  remarkable  mingling  of  the  real 
and  ideal.  All  night  long,  and  every  night,  on  this  canal, 
there  was  a  perfect  storm  and  tempest  of  spitting  ;  and  once 
my  coat,  being  in  the  very  center  of  the  hurricane  sustained 
by  five  gentlemen  (which  moved  vertically,  strictly  carrying 
out  Reid's  Theory  of  the  Law  of  Storms),  I  was  fain  the 
next  morning  to  lay  it  on  the  deck,  and  rub  it  down  with 
fair  water  before  it  was  in  a  condition  to  be  worn  again. 

Between  five  and  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  got  up, 
and  some  of  us  went  on  deck,  to  give  them  an  opportunity 
of  taking  the  shelves  down  ;  while  others,  the  morning  being 
very  cold,  crowded  round  the  rusty  stoves,  cherishing  the 
newly  kindled  fire,  and  filling  the  grate  with  those  voluntary 
contributions  of  which  they  had  been  so  liberal  all  night. 
The  washing  accommodations  were  primitive.  There  was  a 
tin  ladle  chained  to  the  deck,  with  which  every  gentleman 
who  thought  it  necessary  to  cleanse  himself  (many  were  su- 
perior to  this  weakness),  fished  the  dirty  water  out  of  the 
canal  and  poured  it  into  a  tin  basin,  secured  in  like  manner. 
There  was  also  a  jack-towel.  And,  hanging  up  before  a  lit- 
tle looking-glass  in  the  bar,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
bread-and-cheese  and  biscuits,  were  a  public  comb  and  hair- 
brush. 

At  eight  o'clock,  the  shelves  being  taken  down  and  put 
away,  and  the  tables  joined  together,  every  body  sat  down  to 
the  tea,  coffee,  bread,  butter,  salmon,  shad,  liver,  steak, 
potatoes,  pickles,  harri,  chops,  black-puddings,  and  sausages, 
all  over  again.  Some  were  fond  of  compounding  this 
variety,  and  having  it  all  on  their  plates  at  once.  As  each 
gentleman  got  through  his  own  personal  amount  of  tea, 
coffee,  bread,  butter,  salmon,  shad,  liver,  steak,  potatoes, 
pickles,  ham,  chops,  black-puddings,  and  sausages,  he  rose 
up  and  walked  off.  When  every  body  had  done  with  every 
thing,  the  fragments  were  cleared  away,  and  one  of  the 
waiters  appearing  anew  in  the  character  of  a  barber,  shaved 
such  of  the  company  as  desired  to  be  shaved  ;  while  the  re- 
mainder looked  on,  or  yawned  over  their  newspapers.  Din- 
ner was  breakfast  again,  without  the  tea  and  coffee  ;  and 
supper  and  breakfast  were  identical. 

There  was  a  man  on  board  this  boat,  with  a  light  fresh- 


i44  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

colored  face,  and  a  pepper-and-salt  suit  of  clothes,  who  was 
the  most  inquisitive  fellow  that  can  possibly  be  imagined. 
He  never  spoke  otherwise  than  interrogatively.  He  was  an 
embodied  inquiry.  Sitting  down  or  standing  up,  still  or 
moving,  walking  the  deck  or  taking  his  meals,  there  he  was, 
with  a  great  note  of  interrogation  in  each  eye,  two  in  his 
cocked  ears,  two  more  in  his  turned-up  nose  and  chin,  at 
least  half  a  dozen  more  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
the  largest  one  of  all  in  his  hair,  which  was  brushed  pertly 
off  his  forehead  in  a  flaxen  clump.  Every  button  in  his 
clothes  said,  "  Eh  ?  What's  that  ?  Did  you  speak  ?  Say 
that  again,  will  you  ? "  He  was  always  wide  awake,  like  the 
enchanted  bride  who  drove  her  husband  frantic  ;  always 
restless  ;  always  thirsting  for  answers  ;  perpetually  seeking 
and  never  finding.     There  never  was  such  a  curious  man. 

I  wore  -a  fur  great-coat  at  that  time,  and  before  we  were 
well  clear  of  the  wharf,  he  questioned  me  concerning  it,  and  its 
price,  and  where  I  bought  it,  and  when,  and  what  fur  it  was, 
and  what  it  weighed,  and  what  it  cost.  Then  he  took  notice 
of  my  watch,  and  asked  me  what  that  cost,  and  whether  it  was 
a  French  watch,  and  where  I  got  it,  and  how  I  got  it,  and 
whether  I  bought  it  or  had  it  given  me,  and  how  it  went,  and 
where  the  key-hole  was,  and  when  I  wound  it,  every  night  or 
every  morning,  and  whether  I  ever  forgot  to  wind  it  at  all,  and 
if  I  did,  what  then  ?  Where  had  I  been  to  last,  and  where 
was  I  going  next,  and  where  was  I  going  after  that,  and  had 
I  seen  the  president,  and  what  did  he  say,  and  what  did  I 
say,  and  what  did  he  say  when  I  had  said  that  ?  Eh  ?  Lor 
now  !  do  tell  ! 

Finding  that  nothing  would  satisfy  him,  I  evaded  his  ques- 
tions after  the  first  score  or  two,  and  in  particular  pleaded 
ignorance  respecting  the  name  of  the  fur  whereof  the  coat 
was  made.  I  am  unable  to  say  whether  this  was  the  reason, 
but  that  coat  fascinated  him  afterward  ;  he  usually  kept 
close  behind  me  as  I  walked,  and  moved  as  I  moved,  that 
he  might  look  at  it  the  better  ;  and  he  frequently  dived  into 
narrow  places  after  me  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  that  he  might 
have  the  satisfaction  of  passing  his  hand  up  the  back,  and 
rubbing  it  the  wrong  way. 

We  had  another  odd  specimen  on  board,  of  a  different 
kind.  This  was  a  thin-faced,  spare-figured  man  of  middle 
age  and  stature,  dressed  in  a  dusty  drabbish-colored  suit, 
such  as  I  never  saw  before.  He  was  perfectly  quiet  during 
the  first  part  of  the   journey  :    indeed   I  don't   remember 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  145 

having  so  much  as  seen  him  until  he  was  brought  out  by  cir- 
cumstances, as  great  men  often  are.  The  conjunction  of 
events  which  made  him  famous,  happened,  briefly,  thus. 

The  canal  extends  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  there, 
of  course,  it  stops  ;  the  passengers  being  conveyed  across  it 
by  land-carriage,  and  taken  on  afterward  by  another  canal- 
boat,  the  counterpart  of  the  first,  which  awaits  them  on  the 
other  side.  There  are  two  canal  lines  of  passage-boats  ;  one 
is  called  the  Express,  and  one  (a  cheaper  one)  the  Pioneer. 
The  Pioneer  gets  first  to  the  mountain,  and  waits  for  the 
Express  people  to  come  up  ;  both  sets  of  passengers  being 
conveyed  across  it  at  the  same  time.  We  were  the  Express 
company  ;  but  when  we  had  crossed  the  mountain,  and  had 
come  to  the  second  boat,  the  proprietors  took  it  into  their 
heads  to  draft  all  the  Pioneers  into  it  likewise,  so  that  we 
were  five-and-forty  at  least,  and  the  accession  of  passengers 
was  not  at  all  of  that  kind  which  improved  the  prospect  of 
sleeping  at  night.  Our  people  grumbled  at  this,  as  people 
do  in  such  cases ;  but  suffered  the  boat  to  be  towed  off  with 
the  whole  freight  aboard  nevertheless ;  and  away  we  went 
down  the  canal.  At  home,  I  should  have  protested  lustily, 
but  being  a  foreigner  here  I  held  my  peace.  Not  so  this 
passenger.  He  cleft  a  path  among  the  people  on  deck  (we 
were  nearly  all  on  deck),  and  without  addressing  any  body 
whomsoever,  soliloquized  as  follows  : 

"  This  may  suit  you,  this  may,  but  it  don't  suit  me.  This 
may  be  all  very  well  with  Down  Easters,  and  men  of  Boston 
raising,  but  it  won't  suit  my  figure  no  how  ;  and  no  two  ways 
about  that  j  and  so  I  tell  you.  Now  !  I'm  from  the  brown 
forests  of  the  Mississippi,  /am,  and  when  the  sun  shines  on 
me,  it  does  shine — a  little.  It  don't  glimmer  where  /  live, 
the  sun  don't.  No.  I'm  a  brown  forester,  I  am.  I  ain't  a 
Johnny  Cake.  There  are  no  smooth  skins  where  I  live. 
We're  rough  men  there.  Rather.  If  Down  Easters  and  men 
of  Boston  raising,  like  this,  I'm  glad  of  it,  but  I'm  none  of 
that  raising  nor  of  that  breed.  No.  This  company  wants  a 
little  fixing,  it  does.  I'm  the  wrong  sort  of  man  for  'em,  I 
am.  They  won't  like  me,  they  won't.  This  is  piling  of  it 
up,  a  little  too  mountainous,  this  is."  At  the  end  of  every 
one  of  these  short  sentences  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and 
walked  the  other  way  ;  checking  himself  abruptly  when  he 
had  finished  another  short  sentence,  and  turning  back  again. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  what  terrific  meaning  was 
hidden  in  the  words  of  this  brown  forester,  but  I  know  that 


146  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

the  other  passengers  looked  on  in  a  sort  of  admiring  horror 
and  that  presently  the  boat  was  put  back  to  the  wharf,  and 
as  many  of  the  Pioneers  as  could  be  coaxed  or  bullied  into 
going  away,  were  got  rid  of. 

When  we  started  again,  some  of  the  boldest  spirits  on  board 
made  bold  to  say,  to  the  obvious  occasion  of  this  improve- 
ment in  our  prospects,  "  Much  obliged  to  you,  sir  ; "  where- 
unto  the  brown  forester  (waving  his  hand,  and  still  walking 
up  and  down  as  before)  replied,  "  No,  you  ain't.  You're  none 
o'  my  raising.  You  may  act  for  yourselves,  you  may.  I  have 
pinted  out  the  way.  Down  Easters  and  Johnny  Cakes  can 
follow  if  they  please.  I  ain't  a  Johnny  Cake,  /  ain't.  I  am 
from  the  brown  forests  of  the  Mississippi,  /  am  " — and  so 
on,  as  before.  He  was  unanimously  voted  one  of  the  tables 
for  his  bed  at  night — there  is  a  great  contest  for  the  tables — 
in  consideration  for  his  public  services  ;  and  he  had  the 
warmest  corner  by  the  stove  throughout  the  rest  of  the  jour- 
ney. But  I  never  could  find  out  that  he  did  any  thing  except 
sit  there  ;  nor  did  I  hear  him  speak  again  until  in  the  midst 
of  the  bustle  and  turmoil  of  getting  the  luggage  ashore  in  the 
dark  at  Pittsburg,  I  stumbled  over  him  as  he  sat  smoking  a 
cigar  on  the  cabin  steps,  and  heard  him  muttering  to  him- 
self, with  a  short  laugh  of  defiance,  "  I  ain't  a  Johnny  Cake, 
/ain't.  I'm  from  the  brown  forests  of  the  Mississippi,  Y 
am,  damme  !  "  I  am  inclined  to  argue  from  this  that  he  had 
never  left  off  saying  so  ;  but  I  could  not  make  an  affidavit  of 
that  part  of  the  story,  if  required  to  do  so  by  my  queen  and 
country. 

As  we  had  not  reached  Pittsburg  yet,  however,  in  the 
order  of  our  narrative,  I  may  go  on  to  remark  that  breakfast 
was  perhaps  the  least  desirable  meal  of  the  day,  as,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  many  savory  odors  arising  from  the  eatables 
already  mentioned,  there  were  whiffs  of  gin,  whisky,  brandy, 
and  rum,  from  the  little  bar  hard  by,  and  a  decided  season- 
ing of  stale  tobacco.  Many  of  the  gentlemen  passengers 
were  far  from  particular  in  respect  of  their  linen,  which  was 
in  some  cases  as  yellow  as  the  little  rivulets  that  had  trick- 
led from  the  corners  of  their  mouths  in  chewing,  and  dried 
there.  Nor  was  the  atmosphere  quite  free  from  zephyr 
whisperings  of  the  thirty  beds  which  had  just  been 
cleared  away,  and  of  which  we  were  further  and  more 
pressingly  reminded  by  the  occasional  appearance  on  the 
table-cloth  of  a  kind  of  game,  not  mentioned  in  the  bill  of 
fare. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  147 

And  yet  despite  these  oddities — and  even  they  had,  for 
me  at  least,  a  humor  of  their  own — there  was  much  in  this 
mode  of  traveling  which  I  heartily  enjoyed  at  the  time,  and 
looked  back  upon  with  great  pleasure.  Even  the  running 
up,  bare-necked,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  from  the 
tainted  cabin  to  the  dirty  deck  ;  scooping  up  the  icy  water, 
plunging  one's  head  into  it,  and  drawing  it  out,  all  fresh  and 
glowing  with  the  cold  ;  was  a  good  thing.  The  fast,  brisk 
walk  upon  the  towing-path,  between  that  time  and  breakfast, 
when  every  vein  and  artery  seemed  to  tingle  with  health  ; 
the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  opening  day,  when  light  came 
gleaming  off  from  every  thing  ;  the  lazy  motion  of  the  boat, 
when  one  lay  idly  on  the  deck,  looking  through,  rather  than 
at,  the  deep  blue  sky  ;  the  gliding  on  at  night,  so  noiselessly, 
past  frowning  hills,  sullen  with  dark  trees,  and  sometimes 
angry  in  one  red  burning  spot  high  up,  where  unseen  men 
lay  crouching  round  a  fire  ;  the  shining  out  of  the  bright 
stars  undisturbed  by  noise  of  wheels  or  steam,  or  any  other 
sound  than  the  limpid  rippling  of  the  waters  as  the  boat  went 
on  :  all  these  were  pure  delights. 

Then  there  were  new  settlements  and  detached  log-cabins 
and  frame-houses,  full  of  interest  for  strangers  from  an  old 
country  :  cabins  with  simple  ovens,  outside,  made  of  clay  ; 
and  lodgings  for  the  pigs  nearly  as  good  as  many  of  the 
human  quarters  ;  broken  windows,  patched  with  worn-out 
hats,  old  clothes,  old  boards,  fragments  of  blankets  and  pa- 
per ;  and  home-made  dressers  standing  in  the  open-air  with- 
out the  door,  whereon  was  ranged  the  household  store,  not 
hard  to  count,  of  earthern  jars  and  pots.  The  eye  was 
pained  to  see  the  stumps  of  great  trees  thickly  strewn  in 
every  field  of  wheat,  and  seldom  to  lose  the  eternal  swamp 
and  dull  morass,  with  hundreds  of  rotten  trunks  and  twisted 
branches  steeped  in  its  unwholesome  water.  It  was  quite 
sad  and  oppressive,  to  come  upon  great  tracts  where  settlers 
had  been  burning  down  the  trees,  and  where  their  wounded 
bodies  lay  about,  like  those  of  murdered  creatures,  while 
here  and  there  some  charred  and  blackened  giant  reared 
aloft  two  withered  arms,  and  seemed  to  call  down  curses  on 
his  foes.  Sometimes,  at  night,  the  way  wound  through  some 
lonely  gorge,  like  a  mountain  pass  in  Scotland,  shining  and 
coldly  glittering  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  and  so  closed  in 
by  high  steep  hills  all  round,  that  there  seemed  to  be  no 
egress  save  through  the  narrower  path  by  which  we  had 
come,  until  one  rugged  hill-side  seem  to  open,  and  shutting 


i48  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

out  the  moonlight  as  we  passed  into  its  gloomy  throat 
wrapped  our  new  course  in  shade  and  darkness. 

We  had  left  Harrisburg  on  Friday.  On  Sunday  morning 
we  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  which  is  crossed  by 
railroad.  There  are  ten  inclined  planes  ;  five  ascending, 
and  five  Ascending  ;  the  carriages  are  dragged  up  the 
former,  and  let  slowly  down  the  latter,  by  means  of  station- 
ary engines  ;  the  comparatively  level  spaces  between,  being 
traversed,  sometimes  by  horse,  and  sometimes  by  engine 
power,  as  the  case  demands.  Occasionally  the  rails  are  laid 
upon  the  extreme  verge  of  a  giddy  precipice  ;  and,  looking 
from  the  carriage  window,  the  traveler  gazes  sheer  down, 
without  a  stone  or  scrap  of  fence  between,  into  the  mount- 
ain depths  below.  The  journey  is  very  carefully  made, 
however  ;  only  two  carriages  traveling  together  ;  and  while 
proper  precautions  are  taken,  is  not  to  be  dreaded  for  its 
dangers. 

It  was  very  pretty,  traveling  thus  at  a  rapid  pace  along 
the  heights  of  the  mountain  in  a  keen  wind,  to  look  down 
into  a  valley  full  of  light  and  softness  ;  catching  glimpses, 
through  the  tree-tops,  of  scattered  cabins  ;  children  running 
to  the  doors  ;  dogs  bursting  out  to  bark,  whom  we  could  see 
without  hearing  ;  terrified  pigs  scampering  homeward  ;  fami- 
lies sitting  out  in  their  rude  gardens  ;  cows  gazing  upward 
with  a  stupid  indifference  ;  men  in  their  shirt  sleeves  looking 
on  at  their  unfinished  houses,  planning  out  to-morrow's  work  ; 
and  we  riding  onward,  high  above  them,  like  a  whirlwind.  It 
was  amusing,  too,  when  we  had  dined,  and  rattled  down  a 
steep  pass,  having  no  other  moving  power  than  the  weight  of 
the  carriages  themselves,  to  see  the  engine  released,  long 
after  us,  come  buzzing  down  alone,  like  a  great  insect,  its 
back  of  green  and  gold  so  shining  in  the  sun,  that  if  it  had 
spread  a  pair  of  wings  and  soared  away,  no  one  would  have 
had  occasion,  as  I  fancied,  for  the  least  surprise.  But  it 
stopped  short  of  us  in  a  very  business-like  manner  when  we 
reached  the  canal :  and,  before  we  left  the  wharf,  went  pant- 
ing up  this  hill  again,  with  the  passengers  who  had  waited 
our  arrival  for  the  means  of  traversing  the  road  by  which  we 
had  come. 

On  the  Monday  evening,  furnace  fires  and  clanking  ham- 
mers on  the  banks  of  the  canal,  warned  us  that  we  approached 
the  termination  of  this  part  of  our  journey.  After  going 
through  another  dreamy  place — a  long  aqueduct  across  the 
Alleghany  River,  which  was  stranger  than  the  bridge  at  Har» 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  149 

risburg,  being  a  vast  low  wooden  chamber  full  of  water — we 
emerged  upon  that  ugly  confusion  of  backs  of  buildings,  and 
crazy  galleries  and  stairs,  which  always  abuts  on  water, 
whether  it  be  river,  sea,  canal  or  ditch  ;  and  were  at  Pitts- 
burg. 

Pittsburg  is  like  Birmingham  in  England  ;  at  least  its 
towns-people  say  so.  Setting  aside  the  streets,  the  shops,  the 
houses,  wagons,  factories,  public  buildings  and  population, 
perhaps  it  may  be.  It  certainly  has  a  great  quantity  of  smoke 
hanging  about  it,  and  is  famous  for  its  iron  works.  Besides 
the  prison  to  which  I  have  already  referred,  this  town  con- 
tains a  pretty  arsenal  and  other  institutions.  It  is  very  beau- 
tifully situated  on  the  Alleghany  River,  over  which  there  are 
two  bridges  ;  and  the  villas  of  the  wealthier  citizens  sprinkled 
about  the  high  grounds  in  the  neighborhood,  are  pretty 
enough.  We  lodged  at  a  most  excellent  hotel,  and  were 
admirably  served.  As  usual  it  was  full  of  boarders,  was 
very  large,  and  had  a  broad  colonnade  to  every  story  of  the 
house. 

We  tarried  here  three  days.  Our  next  point  was  Cincin- 
nati :  and  as  this  was  a  steamboat  journey,  and  western 
steamboats  usually  blow  up  one  or  two  a  week  in  a  season, 
it  was  advisable  to  collect  opinions  in  reference  to  the  com- 
parative safety  of  the  vessels  bound  that  way,  then  lying  in 
the  river.  One  called  the  Messenger  was  the  best  recom- 
mended. She  had  been  advertised  to  start  positively,  every 
day  for  a  fortnight  or  so,  and  had  not  gone  yet,  nor  did  her 
captain  seem  to  have  any  very  fixed  intention  on  the  subject. 
But  this  is  the  custom  :  for  if  the  law  were  to  bind  down  a 
free  and  independent  citizen  to  keep  his  word  with  the  public, 
what  would  become  of  the  liberty  of  the  subject  ?  Besides, 
it  is  in  the  way  of  trade.  And  if  passengers  be  decoyed  in 
the  way  of  trade,  and  people  be  inconvenienced  in  the  way 
of  trade,  what  man,  who  is  a  sharp  tradesman,  himself,  shall 
say,  "  We  must  put  a  stop  to  this  ?  " 

Impressed  with  the  deep  solemnity  of  the  public  announce- 
ment, I  (being  then  ignorant  of  these  usages)  was  for  hurry- 
ing on  board  in  a  breathless  state,  immediately  ;  but  receiving 
private  and  confidential  information  that  the  boat  would  cer- 
tainly not  start  until  Friday,  April  the  First,  we  made  our- 
selves very  comfortable  in  the  meanwhile,  and  went  on 
board  at  noon  that  day. 


f<o  AMERICAN  NOTES. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

FROM    PITTSBURG   TO   CINCINNATI  IN  A  WESTERN  STEAMBOAT, 
CINCINNATI. 

The  Messenger  was  one  among  a  crowd  of  high-pressure 
steamboats,  clustered  together  by  a  wharf-side,  which,  looked 
down  upon  from  the  rising  ground  that  forms  the  landing- 
place,  and  backed  by  the  lofty  bank  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river,  appeared  no  larger  than  so  many  floating  models. 
She  had  some  forty  passengers  on  board,  exclusive  of  the 
poorer  persons  on  the  lower  deck  ;  and  in  half  an  hour,  or 
less,  proceeded  on  her  way. 

We  had,  for  ourselves,  a  tiny  state-room  with  two  berths 
in  it  opening  out  of  the  ladies'  cabin.  There  was,  undoubt- 
edly, something  satisfactory  in  this  "  location,"  inasmuch  as 
it  was  the  stern,  and  we  had  been  a  great  many  times  very 
gravely  recommended  to  keep  as  far  aft  as  possible,  "  because 
the  steamboats  generally  blew  up  forward."  Nor  was  this 
an  unnecessary  caution,  as  the  occurrence  and  circumstances 
of  more  than  one  such  fatality  during  our  stay  sufficiently 
testified.  Apart  from  this  source  of  self-congratulation,  it 
was  an  unspeakable  relief  to  have  any  place,  no  matter  how 
confined,  where  one  could  be  alone  :  and  as  the  row  of  little 
chambers  of  which  this  was  one,  had  each  a  second  glass- 
door  beside  that  in  the  ladies'  cabin,  which  opened  on  a  nar- 
row gallery  outside  the  vessel,  where  the  other  passengers 
seldom  came,  and  where  one  could  sit  in  peace  and  gaze 
upon  the  shifting  prospect,  we  took  possession  of  our  new 
quarters  with  much  pleasure. 

If  the  native  packets  I  have  already  described  beunlike 
any  thing  we  are  in  the  habit  of  seeing  on  water,  these  west- 
ern vessels  are  still  more  foreign  to  all  the  ideas  we  are  ac- 
customed to  entertain  of  boats.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
liken  them  to,  or  how  to  describe  them. 

In  the  first  place,  they  have  no  mast,  cordage,  tackle,  rig- 
ging, or  other  such  boat-like  gear  ;  nor  have  they  any  thing 
in  their  shape  at  all  calculated  to  remind  one  of  a  boat's  head, 
stern,  sides,  or  keel.  Except  that  they  are  in  the  water,  and 
display  a  couple  of  paddle-boxes,  they  might  be  intended 
for  any  thing  that  appears  to  the  contrary,  to  perform  some 
unknown  service,  high  and  dry,  upon  a  mountain  top.  There 
is  no  visible  deck,  even  :  nothing  but  a  long,  black,  ugly 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  151 

roof,  covered  with  burnt-out  feathery  sparks  ;  above  which 
tower  two  iron  chimneys,  and  a  hoarse  escape  valve,  and  a 
glass  steerage-house.  Then,  in  order,  as  the  eye  descends 
toward  the  water,  are  the  sides,  and  doors,  and  windows  of 
the  state-rooms,  jumbled  as  oddly  together  as  though  they 
formed  a  small  street,  built  by  the  varying  tastes  of  a'dozen 
men  :  the  whole  is  supported  on  beams  and  pillars  resting 
on  a  dirty  barge,  but  a  few  inches  above  the  water's  edge  : 
and  in  the  narrow  space  between  this  upper  structure  and 
this  barge's  deck  are  the  furnace  fires  and  machinery,  open 
at  the  sides  to  every  wind  that  blows,  and  every  storm  of 
rain  it  drives  along  its  path. 

Passing  one  of  these  boats  at  night,  and  seeing  the  great 
body  of  fire,  exposed  as  I  have  just  described,  that  *rages 
and  roars  beneath  the  frail  pile  of  painted  wood  :  the  ma- 
chinery, not  warded  off  or  guarded  in  any  way,  but  doing  its 
work  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  of  idlers  and  emigrants  and 
children,  who  throng  the  lower  deck  :  under  the  manage- 
ment, too,  of  reckless  men  whose  acquaintance  with  its  mys- 
teries may  have  been  of  six  months'  standing  :  one  feels  di- 
rectly that  the  wonder  is,  not  that  there  should  be  so  many 
fatal  accidents,  but  that  any  journey  should  be  safely  made. 

Within,  there  is  one  long  narrow  cabin,  the  whole  length 
of  the  boat  ;  from  which  the  state-rooms  open,  on  both  sides. 
A  small  portion  of  it  at  the  stern  is  partitioned  off  for  the 
ladies  ;  and  the  bar  is  at  the  opposite  extreme.  There  is  a 
long  table  down  the  center,  and  at  either  end  a  stove.  The 
washing  apparatus  is  forward,  on  the  deck.  It  is  a  little  bet- 
ter than  on  board  the  canal  boat,  but  not  much.  In  all 
modes  of  traveling,  the  American  customs,  with  reference  to 
the  means  of  personal  cleanliness  and  wholesome  ablution, 
are  extremely  negligent  and  filthy  ;  and  I  strongly  incline  to 
the  belief  that  a  considerable  amount  of  illness  is  referable  to 
this  cause. 

We  are  to  be  on  board  the  Messenger  three  days  ;  arriv- 
ing at  Cincinnati  (barring  accidents)  on  Monday  morning. 
There  are  three  meals  a  day.  Breakfast  at  seven,  dinner  at 
half-past  twelve,  supper  about  six,  At  each,  there  are  a 
great  many  small  dishes  and  plates  upon  the  table,  with  very 
little  in  them  ;  so  that  although  there  is  every  appearance  of 
a  mighty  "  spread,"  there  is  seldom  really  more  than  a  joint  : 
except  for  those  who  fancy  slices  of  beet-root,  shreds  of 
dried  beef,  complicated  entanglements  of  yellow  pickle  ; 
maize,  Indian  corn,  apple-sauce,  and  pumpkin. 


i52  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

Some  people  fancy  all  these  little  dainties  together  (and 
sweet  preserves  beside),  by  way  of  relish  to  their  roast  pig. 
They  are  generally  those  dyspeptic  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
eat  unheard-of  quantities  of  hot  corn  bread  (almost  as  good 
for  the  digestion  as  a  kneaded  pin-cushion),  for  breakfast, 
and  for  supper.  Those  who  do  not  observe  this  custom,  and 
who  help  themselves  several  times  instead,  usually  suck  their 
knives  and  forks  meditatively,  until  they  have  decided  what 
to  take  next ;  then  pull  them  out  of  their  mouths  ;  put  them 
in  the  dish  ;  help  themselves  ;  and  fall  to  work  again.  At 
dinner,  there  is  nothing  to  drink  upon  the  table,  but  great 
jugs  full  of  cold  water.  Nobody  says  any  thing,  at  any  m^al, 
to  any  body.  All  the  passengers  are  very  dismal,  and  seem 
to  have  tremendous  secrets  weighing  on  their  minds.  There 
is  no  conversation,  no  laughter,  no  cheerfulness,  no  sociality, 
except  in  spitting  ;  and  that  is  done  in  silent  fellowship  round 
the  stove,  when  the  meal  is  over.  Every  man  sits  down,  dull 
and  languid  ;  swallows  his  fare  as  if  breakfasts,  dinners,  and 
suppers,  were  necessities  of  nature  never  to  be  coupled  with 
recreation  or  enjoyment ;  and  having  bolted  his  food  in 
a  gloomy  silence,  bolts  himself,  in  the  same  state.  But  for 
these  animal  observances,  you  might  suppose  the  whole 
male  portion  of  the  company  to  be  the  melancholy  ghosts 
of  departed  book-keepers,  who  had  fallen  dead  at  the  desk  ; 
such  is  their  weary  air  of  business  and  calculation.  Under- 
takers on  duty  would  be  sprightly  beside  them  ;  and  a  col- 
lation of  funeral-baked  meats,  in  comparison  with  these 
meals,  would  be  a  sparkling  festivity. 

The  people  are  all  alike,  too;  There  is  no  diversity  of 
character.  They  travel  about  on  the  same  errands,  say  and 
do  the  same  things  in  exactly  the  same  manner,  and  follow 
in  the  same  dull,  cheerless  round.  All  down  the  long  table, 
there  is  scarcely  a  man  who  is  different  in  any  thing  from 
his  neighbor.  It  is  quite  a  relief  to  have,  sitting  opposite, 
that  little  girl  of  fifteen  with  the  loquacious  chin  :  who,  to 
do  her  justice,  acts  up  to  it,  and  fully  identifies  Nature's 
handwriting,  for  of  all  the  small  chatter-boxes  that  ever  in- 
vaded the  repose  of  drowsy  ladies'  cabin,  she  is  the  first 
and  foremost.  The  beautiful  girl,  who  sits  a  little  beyond 
her — further  down  the  table  there — married  the  young  man 
with  the  dark  whiskers,  who  sits  beyond  her,  only  last 
month.  They  are  going  to  settle  in  the  very  Far  West,  where 
he  has  lived  four  years,  but  where  she  has  never  been.  They 
were  both  overturned  in  a  stage-coach  the  other  day  (a 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  153 

bad  omen  anywhere  else,  where  overturns  are  not  so  com- 
mon), and  his  head,  which  bears  the  marks  of  a  recent 
wound,  is  bound  up  still.  She  was  hurt  too,  at  the  same 
time,  and  lay  insensible  for  some  days  ;  bright  as  her  eyes 
are  now. 

Further  down  still,  sits  a  man  who  is  going  some  miles 
beyond  their  place  of  destination,  to  "  improve  "  a  newly- 
discovered  copper  mine.  He  carries  the  village — that -is  to 
be — with  him  :  a  few  frame  cottages,  and  an  apparatus  for 
smelting  the  copper.  He  carries  its  people  too.  They  are 
partly  American  and  partly  Irish,  and  herd  together  on  the 
lower  deck  ;  where  they  amused  themselves  last  evening  till 
the  night  was  pretty  far  advanced,  by  alternately  firing  off 
pistols  and  singing  hymns. 

They,  and  the  very  few  who  have  been  left  at  table  twenty 
minutes,  rise,  and  go  away.  We  do  so  too  ;  and  passing 
through  our  little  state-room,  resume  our  seats  in  the  quiet 
gallery  without. 

A  fine  broad  river  always,  but  in  some  parts  much  wider 
than  in  others  ;  and  then  there  is  usually  a  green  island, 
covered  with  trees,  dividing  it  into  two  streams.  Occa- 
sionally, we  stop  for  a  few  minutes,  may  be  to  take  in  wood, 
may  be  for  passengers,  at  some  small  town  or  village  (I  ought 
to  say  city,  every  place  is  a  city  here)  ;  but  the  banks  are 
for  the  most  part  deep  solitudes,  overgrown  with  trees, 
which,  hereabout,  are  already  in  leaf  and  very  green.  For 
miles,  and  miles,  and  miles,  these  solitudes  are  unbroken  by 
any  sign  of  human  life  or  trace  of  human  footstep  ;  nor  is 
any  thing  seen  to  move  about  them  but  the  blue  jay,  whose 
color  is  so  bright  and  yet  so  delicate,  that  it  looks  like  a 
flying  flower.  At  lengthened  intervals,  a  log  cabin,  with  its 
little  space  of  cleared  land  about  it,  nestles  under  a  rising 
ground,  and  sends  its  thread  of  blue  smoke  curling  up  into 
the  sky.  It  stands  in  the  corner  of  the  poor  field  of  wheat, 
which  is  full  of  great  unsightly  stumps,  like  earthy  butchers'- 
blocks.  Sometimes  the  ground  is  only  just  now  cleared  : 
the  felled  trees  lying  yet  upon  the  soil,  and  the  log-house 
only  this  morning  begun.  As  we  pass  this  clearing,  the 
settler  leans  upon  his  ax  or  hammer,  and  looks  wistfully  at 
the  people  from  the  world.  The  children  creep  out  of  the 
temporary  hut,  which  is  like  a  gipsy  tent  upon  the  ground, 
and  clap  their  hands  and  shout.  The  dog  only  glances 
round  at  us,  and  then  looks  up  into  his  master's  face  again, 
as  if  he  were  rendered  uneasv  by  any  suspension  of  the 


i54  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

common  business,  and  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  pleas- 
ures.    And   still    there   is    the    same,  eternal   foreground. 

The  river  has  washed  away  its  banks,  and  stately  trees 
have  fallen  down  into  the  stream.  Some  have  been  there  so 
long,  that  they  are  mere  dry  grizzly  skeletons.  Some  have 
just  toppled  over,  and  having  earth  yet  about  their  roots, 
are  bathing  their  green  heads  in  the  river,  and  putting 
forth  new  shoots  and  branches.  Some  are  almost  sliding 
down,  as  you  look  at  them.  And  some  were  drowned  so 
long  ago,  that  their  bleached  arms  start  out  from  the  middle 
of  the  current,  and  seem  to  try  to  grasp  the  boat  and  drag 
it  under  the  water. 

Through  such  a  scene  as  this  the  unwieldy  machine 
takes  its  hoarse,  sullen  way  ;  venting,  at  every  revolution  of 
the  paddles,  a  loud  high-pressure  blast  ;  enough,  one  would 
think,  to  waken  up  the  host  of  Indians  who  lie  buried  in  a 
great  mound  yonder  :  so  old,  that  mighty  oaks  and  other 
forest  trees  have  struck  their  roots  into  its  earth  ;  and  so 
high,  that  it  is  a  hill,  even  among  the  hills  that  Nature 
planted  round  it.  The  very  river,  as  though  it  shared  one's 
feelings  of  compassion  for  the  extinct  tribes  who  lived  so 
pleasantly  here,  in  their  blessed  ignorance  of  white  existence, 
hundreds  of  years  ago,  steals  out  of  its  way  to  ripple  near 
this  mound  :  and  there  are  few  places  where  the  Ohio 
sparkles  more  brightly  than  in  the  Big  Grave  Creek. 

All  this  I  see  as  I  sit  in  the  little  stern-gallery  mentioned 
just  now.  Evening  slowly  steals  upon  the  landscape,  and 
changes  it  before  me,  when  we  stop  to  set  some  emigrants 
ashore. 

Five  men,  as  many  women,  and  a  little  girl.  All  their 
worldly  goods  are  a  bag,  a  large  chest,  and  an  old  chair  : 
one  old,  high-backed,  rush-bottomed  chair  :  a  solitary  settler 
in  itself.  They  are  rowed  ashore  in  theboat,  while  the  ves- 
sel stands  a  little  off  awaiting  its  return,  the  water  being 
shallow.  They  are  landed  at  the  foot  af  a  high  bank,  on 
the  summit  of  which  are  a  few  log  cabins,  attainable  only 
by  a  long  winding  path.  It  is  growing  dusk  ;  but  the  sun  is 
very  red,  and  shines  in  the  water  and  on  some  of  the  tree- 
tops,  like  fire. 

The  men  get  out  of  the  boat  first  ;  help  out  the  women  ; 
take  out  the  bag,  the  chest,  the  chair  ;  bid  the  rowers  "  good- 
by  ; "  and  shove  the  boat  off  for  them.  At  the  first  plash 
of  the  oars  in  the  water,  the  oldest  woman  of  the  party  sits 
down  in  the  old  chair,  close  to  the  water's  edge,  without 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  155 

speaking  a  word.  None  of  the  others  sit  down,  though  the 
chest  is  large  enough  for  many  seats.  They  all  stand  where 
they  landed,  as  if  stricken  into  stone  ;  and  look  after  the 
boat.  So  they  remain  quite  still  and  silent,  the  old  woman 
and  her  old  chair  in  the  center  ;  the  bag  and  chest  upon 
the  shore,  without  any  body  heeding  them  :  all  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  boat.  It  comes  alongside,  is  made  fast,  the  men 
jump  on  board,  the  engine  is  put  in  motion,  and  we  go 
hoarsely  on  again.  There  they  stand  yet,  without  a  motion 
of  a  hand.  I  can  see  them  through  my  glass,  when,  in  the 
distance  and  increasing  darkness,  they  are  mere  specks  to 
the  eye  ;  lingering  there  still  ;  the  old  woman  in  the  old 
chair,  and  all  the  rest  about  her  ;  not  stirring  in  the  least 
degree.     And  thus  I  slowly  lose  them. 

The  night  is  dark,  and  we  proceed  within  the  shadow  of 
the  wooded  bank,  which  makes  it  darker.  After  gliding  past 
the  somber  maze  of  boughs  for  a  long  time,  we  come  upon 
an  open  space  where  the  tall  trees  are  burning.  The  shape 
of  every  branch  and  twig  is  expressed  in  a  deep  red  glow, 
and  as  the  light  wind  stirs  and  ruffles  it,  they  seem  to  vege- 
tate in  fire.  It  is  such  a  sight  as  we  read  of  in  legends  of 
enchanted  forests  ;  saving  that  it  is  sad  to  see  these  noble 
works  wasting  away  so  awfully  alone  ;  and  to  think  how 
many  years  must  come  and  go  before  the  magic  that  crea- 
ted them  will  rear  their  like  upon  this  ground  again.  But 
the  time  will  come,  and  when,  in  their  changed  ashes  the 
growth  of  centuries  unborn  has  struck  its  roots,  the  restless 
men  of  distant  ages  will  repair  to  these  again  unpeopled 
solitudes  ;  and  their  fellows,  in  cities  far  away,  that  slum- 
ber now,  perhaps,  beneath  the  rolling  sea,  will  read  in 
language  strange  to  any  ears  in  being  now,  but  very  old 
to  them,  of  primeval  forests  where  the  ax  was  never  heard, 
and  where  the  jungled  ground  was  never  trodden  by  a  human 
foot. 

Midnight  and  sleep  blot  out  these  scenes  and  thoughts  ; 
and  when  the  morning  shines  again,  it  gilds  the  house-tops 
of  a  lively  city,  before  whose  broad  paved  wharf  the  boat 
is  moored  ;  with  other  boats,  and  flags,  and  moving  wheels, 
and  hum  of  men  around  it  ;  as  though  there  were  not  a 
solitary  or  silent  rood  of  ground  within  a  compass  of  a 
thousand  miles. 

Cincinnati  is  a  beautiful  city  ;  cheerful,  thriving  and  ani- 
mated. I  have  not  often  seen  a  place  that  commends  itself 
so  favorably  and  pleasantly  to  a  stranger  at  the  first  glance 


156  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

as  this  does  ;  with  its  clean  houses  of  red  and  white,  its 
well-paved  roads,  and  footways  of  bright  tile.  Nor  does  it 
become  less  prepossessing  on  a  closer  acquaintance.  The 
streets  are  broad  and  airy,  the  shops  extremely  good,  the 
private  residences  remarkable  for  their  elegance  and  neat- 
ness. There  is  something  of  invention  and  fancy  in  the 
varying  styles  of  these  latter  erections,  which,  after  the 
dull  company  of  the  steamboat,  is  perfectly  delightful,  as 
conveying  an  assurance  that  there  are  such  qualities  still  in 
existence.  The  disposition  to  ornament  these  pretty  villas 
and  render  them  attractive,  leads  to  the  culture  of  trees  and 
flowers,  and  the  laying  out  of  well  kept  gardens,  the  sight 
of  which,  to  those  who  walk  along  the  streets,  is  inexpressi- 
bly refreshing  and  agreeable.  I  was  quite  charmed  with  the 
appearance  of  the  town,  and  its  adjoining  suburb  of  Mount 
Auburn  ;  from  which  the  city,  lying  in  an  amphitheater  of 
hills,  forms  a  picture  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  is  seen  to 
great  advantage. 

There  happened  to  be  a  great  temperance  convention 
held  here  on  the  day  after  our  arrival  ;  and  as  the  order  of 
march  brought  the  procession  under  the  windows  of  the  hotel 
in  which  we  lodged,  when  they  started  in  the  morning,  I  had 
a  good  opportunity  of  seeing  it.  It  comprised  several  thou- 
sand men  ;  the  members  of  the  various  "  Washington  Aux- 
iliary Temperance  Societies  ; "  and  was  marshaled  by  offi- 
cers on  horseback,  who  cantered  briskly  up  and  down  the 
line,  with  scarfs  and  ribbons  of  bright  colors  fluttering  out 
behind  them  gayly.  There  were  bands  of  music  too,  and 
banners  out  of  number  ;  and  it  was  a  fresh,  holiday-looking 
concourse  altogether. 

I  was  particularly  pleased  to  see  the  Irishmen,  who  formed 
a  distinct  society  among  themselves,  and  mustered  very 
strong  with  their  green  scarfs,  carrying  their  national  harp 
and  their  portrait  of  Father  Mathew  high  above  the  people's 
heads.  They  looked  as  jolly  and  good-humored  as  ever, 
and,  working  (here)  the  hardest  for  their  living,  and  doing 
any  kind  of  sturdy  labor  that  came  in  their  way,  were  the 
most  independent  fellows  there,  I  thought. 

The  banners  were  very  well  painted,  and  flaunted  down 
the  street  famously.  There  was  the  smiting  of  the  rock  and 
the  gushing  forth  of  the  waters  ;  and  there  was  a  temperate 
man  with  considerable  of  a  hatchet "  (as  the  standard- 
bearer  would  probably  have  said),  aiming  a  deadly  blow  at  a 
serpent  which  was  apparently  about  to  spring  upon  him  from 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  157 

the  top  of  a  barrel  of  spirits.  But  the  chief  feature  of  this 
part  of  the  show  was  a  huge  allegorical  device,  borne  among 
the  ship-carpenters,  on  one  side  whereof  the  steamboat 
Alcohol  was  represented  bursting  her  boiler  and  exploding 
with  a  great  crash,  while  upon  the  other,  the  good  ship  Tem- 
perance sailed  away  with  a  fair  wind,  to  the  heart's  content 
of  the  captain,  crew,  and  passengers. 

After  going  round  the  town,  the  procession  repaired  to  a 
certain  appointed  place,  where,  as  the  printed  programme  set 
forth,  it  would  be  received  by  the  children  of  the  different 
free  schools,  "  singing  temperance  songs."  I  was  prevented 
from  getting  there  in  time  to  hear  these  little  warblers,  or  to 
report  upon  this  novel  kind  of  vocal  entertainment — novel, 
at  least,  to  me  ;  but  I  found  in  a  large  open  space  each 
society  gathered  round  its  own  banners,  and  listening  in 
silent  attention  to  its  own  orator.  The  speeches,  judging 
from  the  little  I  could  hear  of  them,  were  certainly 
adapted  to  the  occasion,  as  having  that  degree  of  relation- 
ship to  cold  water  which  wet  blankets  may  claim  ;  but  the 
main  thing  was  the  conduct  and  appearance  of  the  audience 
throughout  the  day,  and  that  was  admirable  and  full  of 
promise. 

Cincinnati  is  honorably  famous  for  its  free-schools,  of 
which  it  has  so  many  that  no  person's  child  among  its  popu- 
lation can,  by  possibility,  want  the.  means  of  education, 
which  are  extended,  upon  an  average,  to  four  thousand 
pupils  annually.  I  was  only  present  in  one  of  these  estab- 
lishments during  the  hours  of  instruction.  In  the  boys'  de- 
partment, which  was  full  of  little  urchins  (varying  in  their 
ages,  I  should  say,  from  six  years  old  to  ten  or  twelve),  the 
master  offered  to  institute  an  extemporary  examination  of 
the  pupils  in  algebra,  a  proposal  which,  as  I  was  by  no 
means  confident  of  my  ability  to  detect  mistakes  in  that 
science,  I  declined  with  some  alarm.  In  the  girls'  school, 
reading  was  proposed,  and  as  I  felt  tolerably  equal  to  that 
art  I  expressed  my  willingness  to  hear  a  class.  Books  were 
distributed  accordingly,  and  some  half-dozen  girls  relieved 
each  other  in  reading  paragraphs  from  English  history. 
But  it  seemed  to  be  a  dry  compilation,  infinitely  above 
their  powers ;  and  when  they  had  blundered  through  three 
or  four  dreary  passages  concerning  the  treaty,  of  Amiens, 
and  other  thrilling  topics  of  the  same  nature  (obviously 
without  comprehending  ten  words),  I  expressed  myselC 
quite  satisfied.     It  is  very  possible  that  they  only  mounted 


158  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

to  this  exalted  stave  in  the  ladder  of  learning  for  the  aston- 
ishment of  a  visitor,  and  that  at  other  times  they  keep  upon 
its  lower  rounds  ;  but  I  should  have  been  much  better 
pleased  and  satisfied  if  I  had  heard  them  exercised  in 
simpler  lessons,  which  they  understood. 

As  in  every  other  place  I  visited,  the  judges  here  were 
gentlemen  of  high  character  and  attainments.  I  was  in  one 
of  the  courts  for  a  few  minutes,  and  found  it  like  those  to 
which  I  have  already  referred.  A  nuisance  cause  was  try- 
ing ;  there  were  not  many  spectators,  and  the  witnesses, 
counsel,  and  jury,  formed  a  sort  of  family  circle,  sufficiently 
jocose  and  snug. 

The  society  with  which  I  mingled  was  intelligent,  court- 
eous, and  agreeable.  The  inhabitants  of  Cincinnati  are 
proud  of  their  city,  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  in 
America,  and  with  good  reason  ;  for,  beautiful  and  thriving 
as  it  is  now,  and  containing,  as  it  does,  a  population  of  fifty 
thousand  souls,  but  two-and-fifty  years  have  passed  away 
since  the  ground  on  which  it  stands  (bought  at  that  time 
for  a  few  dollars)  was  a  wild  wood,  and  its  citizens  were 
but  a  handful  of  dwellers  in  scattered  log  huts  upon  the 
river's  shore. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FROM  CINCINNATI  TO  LOUISVILLE  IN  ANOTHER  WESTERN 
STEAMBOAT  ;  AND  FROM  LOUISVILLE  TO  ST.  LOUIS  IN 
ANOTHER. — ST.    LOUIS. 

Leaving  Cincinnati  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  we 
embarked  for  Louisville  in  the  Pike  steamboat,  which,  carry- 
ing the  mails,  was  a  packet  of  a  much  better  class  than  that 
in  which  we  had  come  from  Pittsburg.  As  this  passage  does 
not  occupy  more  than  twelve  or  thirteen  hours,  we  arranged 
to  go  ashore  that  night  :  not  coveting  the  distinction  of  sleep- 
ing in  a  state-room,  when  it  was  possible  to  sleep  anywhere 
else. 

There  chanced  to  be  on  board  this  boat,  in  addition 
to  the  usual  dreary  crowd  of  passengers,  one  Pitchlynn,  a 
chief  of  the  Choctaw  tribe  of  Indians,  who  sent  in  his 
card  to  me,  and  with  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  long 
conversation. 

He  spoke  English  perfectly  well,  though  he  had  not  begun 


AMERICAN  NOTES. 


159 


to  learn  the  language,  he  told  me,  until  he  was  a  young  man 
grown.  He  had  read  many  books  ;  and  Scott's  poetry  ap- 
peared to  have  left  a  strong  impression  on  his  mind  :  especially 
the  opening  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  the  great  battle 
scene  in  Marmion,  in  which,  no  doubt  from  the  congeniality 
of  the  subjects  to  his  own  pursuits  and  tastes,  he  had  great 
interest  and  delight.  He  appeared  to  understand  correctly 
all  he  had  read  ;  and  whatever  fiction  had  enlisted  his  sym- 
pathy in  its  belief,  had  done  so  keenly  and  earnestly.  I 
might  almost  say  fiercely.  He  was  dressed  in  our  ordinary 
every-day  costume,  which  hung  about  his  fine  figure  loosely, 
and  with  indifferent  grace.  On  my  telling  him  that  I  regretted 
not  to  see  him  in  his  own  attire,  he  threw  up  his  right  arm, 
for  a  moment,  as  though  he  were  brandishing  some  heavy 
weapon,  and  answered,  as  he  let  it  fall  again,  that  his  race 
were  losing  many  things  besides  their  dress  ;  and  would  soon 
be  seen  upon  the  earth  no  more  :  but  he  wore  it  at  home,  he 
added  proudly. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  been  away  from  his  home,  west  of 
the  Mississippi,  seventeen  months  ;  and  was  now  returning. 
He  had  been  chiefly  at  Washington  on  some  negotiations 
pending  between  his  tribe  and  the  government  ;  which  were 
not  settled  yet  (he  said  in  a  melancholy  way),  and  he  feared 
never  would  be  :  for  what  could  a  few  poor  Indians  do, 
against  such  well-skilled  men  of  business  as  the  whites  ?  He 
had  no  love  for  Washington  ;  tired  of  towns  and  cities  very 
soon  ;  and  longed  for  the  forest  and  the  prairie. 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  Congress  ?  He  answered, 
with  a  smile,  that  it  wanted  dignity,  in  an  Indian's  eyes. 

He  would  very  much  like,  he  said,  to  see  England  before 
he  died  ;  and  spoke  with  much  interest  about  the  great  things 
to  be  seen  there.  When  I  told  him  of  that  chamber  in  the 
British  Museum  wherein  are  preserved  household  memorials 
of  a  race  that  ceased  to  be,  thousands  of  years  ago,  he 
was  very  attentive,  and  it  was  not  hard  to  see  that  he  had 
a  reference  in  his  mind  to  the  gradual  fading  away  of  his 
own  people. 

This  led  us  to  speak  of  Mr.  Catlin's  gallery,  which  he 
praised  highly  :  observing  that  his  own  portrait  was  among 
the  collection,  and  that  all  the  likenesses  were  '*  elegant." 
Mr.  Cooper,  he  said,  had  painted  the  red  men  well ;  and  so 
would  I,  he  knew,  if  I  would  go  home  with  him  and  hunt 
buffaloes,  which  he  was  quite  anxious  I  should  do.  When  I 
told  him  that  supposing  1  went,  I  should  not  be  very  likely 


i6°  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

to  damage  the  buffaloes  much,  he  took  it  as  a  great  joke  and 
laughed  heartily. 

He  was  a  remarkably  handsome  man  ;  some  years  past 
forty  I  should  judge  ;  with  long  black  hair,  an  aquiline  nose, 
broad  cheek  bones,  a  sunburned  complexion,  and  a  very 
bright  keen,  dark,  and  piercing  eye.  There  were  but  twenty 
thousand  of  the  Choctaws  left,  he  said,  and  their  number  was 
decreasing  every  day.  A  few  of  his  brother  chiefs  had  been 
obliged  to  become  civilized,  and  to  make  themselves  ac- 
quainted with  what  the  whites  knew,  for  it  was  their  only 
chance  of  existence.  But  they  were  not  many  ;  and  the  rest 
were  as  they  always  had  been.  He  dwelt  on  this  :  and  said 
several  times  that  unless  they  tried  to  assimilate  themselves 
to  their  conquerors,  they  must  be  swept  away  before  the 
strides  of  civilized  society. 

When  we  shook  hands  at  parting,  I  told  him  he  must  come 
to  England,  as  he  longed  to  see  the  land  so  much  ;  that  I 
should  hope  to  see  him  there,  one  day  ;  and  that  I  could 
promise  him  he  would  be  well  received  and  kindly  treated. 
He  was  evidently  pleased  by  this  assurance,  though  he  re- 
joined with  a  good-humored  smile  and  an  arch  shake  of  his 
head,  that  the  English  used  to  be  very  fond  of  the  red  men 
when  they  wanted  their  help,  but  had  not  cared  much  for 
them  since. 

He  took  his  leave  ;  as  stately  and  complete  a  gentleman 
of  Nature's  making  as  I  ever  beheld  ;  and  moved  among  the 
people  in  the  boat,  another  kind  of  being.  He  sent  me  a 
lithographed  portrait  of  himself  soon  afterward  ;  very  like, 
though  scarcely  handsome  enough  ;  which  I  have  carefully 
preserved  in  memory  of  our  brief  acquaintance. 

There  wa?  nothing  very  interesting  in -the  scenery  of  this 
day's  journey,  which  brought  us  at  midnight  to  Louisville. 
We  slept  at  the  Gait  House — a  splendid  hotel — and  were  as 
handsomely  lodged  as  though  we  had  been  in  Paris,  rather 
than  hundreds  of  miles  beyond  the  Alleghanies. 

The  city  presenting  no  objects  of  sufficient  interest  to 
detain  us  on  our  way,  we  resolved  to  proceed  next  day  by 
another  steamboat,  the  Fulton,  and  to  join  it,  about  noon,  at 
a  suburb  called  Portland,  where  it  would  be  delayed  some 
time  in  passing  through  a  canal. 

The  interval,  after  breakfast,  we  devoted  to  riding  through 
the  town,  which  is  regular  and  cheerful ;  the  streets  being 
laid  out  at  right  angles,  and  planted  with  young  trees.  The 
buildings  are  smoky  and  blackened,  from  the  use  of  bitumi- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  101 

nous  coal,  but  an  Englishman  is  well  used  to  that  appear- 
ance, and  indisposed  to  quarrel  with  it.  There  did  not  ap- 
pear to  be  much  business  stirring  ;  and  some  unfinished 
buildings  and  improvements  seemed  to  intimate  that  the  city 
had  been  over-built  in  the  ardor  of  "  going  a-head,"  and 
was  suffering  under  the  reaction  consequent  upon  such 
feverish  forcing  of  its  powers. 

On  our  way  to  Portland  we  passed  a  "  Magistrate's  office," 
which  amused  me,  as  looking  far  more  like  a  dame  school 
than  any  police  establishment  :  for  this  awful  institution 
was  nothing  but  a  little  lazy,  good-for-nothing  front  parlor 
open  to  the  street ;  wherein  two  or  three  figures  (I  presume 
the  magistrate  and  his  myrmidons)  were  basking  in  the  sun- 
shine, the  very  effigies  of  languor  and  repose.  It  was  a  per- 
fect picture  of  Justice  retired  from  business  for  want  of  cus- 
tomers ;  her  sword  and  scales  sold  off  ;  napping  comforta- 
bly with  her  legs  upon  the  table. 

Here,  as  elsewhere  in  these  parts,  the  road  was  perfectly 
alive  with  pigs  of  all  ages  ;  lying  about  in  every  direction, 
fast  asleep  ;  or  grunting  along  in  quest  of  hidden  dainties. 
I  had  always  a  sneaking  kindness  for  these  odd  animals, 
and  found  a  constant  source  of  amusement,  when  all  others 
failed,  in  watching  their  proceedings.  As  we  were  riding 
along  this  morning,  I  observed  a  little  incident  between  two 
youthful  pigs,  which  was  so  very  human  as  to  be  inexpressi- 
bly comical  and  grotesque  at  the  time,  though  I  dare  say,  in 
telling,  it  is  tame  enough. 

One  young  gentleman  (a  very  delicate  porker,  with  several 
straws  sticking  about  his  nose,  betokening  recent  investiga- 
tions in  a  dunghill)  was  walking  deliberately  on,  profoundly 
thinking,  when  suddenly  his  brother,  who  was  lying  in  a 
miry  hole  unseen  by  him,  rose  up  immediately  before  his 
startled  eyes,  ghostly  with  damp  mud.  Never  was  pig's 
whole  mass  of  blood  so  turned.  He  started  back  at  least 
three  feet,  gazed  for  a  moment,  and  then  shot  off  as  hard  as 
he  could  go  ;  his  excessively  little  tail  vibrating  with  speed 
and  terror  like  a  distracted  pendulum.  But  before  he  had 
gone  very  far,  he  began  to  reason  with  himself  as  to  the  na- 
ture of  this  frightful  appearance  ;  and  as  he  reasoned,  he 
relaxed  his  speed  by  gradual  degrees  ;  until  at  last  he 
stopped,  and  faced  about.  There  was  his  brother,  with  the 
mud  upon  him  glazing  in  the  sun,  yet  staring  out  of  the  very 
same  hole,  perfectly  amazed  at  his  proceedings  !  He  was 
no  sooner  assured  of  this — and  he  assured  himself  so  care- 


162  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

fully  that  one  may  almost  say  he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his 
hand  to  see  the  better — than  he  came  back  at  a  round  trot, 
pounced  upon  him,  and  summarily  took  off  a  piece  of  his 
tail  ;  as  a  caution  to  him  to  be  careful  what  he  was  about 
for  the  future,  and  never  to  play  tricks  with  his  family  any- 
more. 

We  found  the  steamboat  in  the  canal,  waiting  for  the  slow 
process  of  getting  through  the  lock,  and  went  on  board, 
where  we  shortly  afterward  had  a  new  kind  of  visitor  in  the 
person  of  a  certain  Kentucky  giant,  whose  name  is  Porter, 
and  who  is  of  the  moderate  height  of  seven  feet  eight  inches, 
in  his  stockings. 

There  never  was  a  race  of  people  who  so  completely  gave 
the  lie  to  history  as  these  giants,  or  whom  all  the  chroniclers 
have  so  cruelly  libeled.  Instead  of  roaring  and  ravaging 
about  the  world,  constantly  catering  for  their  cannibal  lard- 
ers, and  perpetually  going  to  market  in  an  unlawful  manner, 
they  are  the  meekest  people  in  any  man's  acquaintance  ; 
rather  inclining  to  milk  and  vegetable  diet,  and  bearing  any 
thing  for  a  quiet  life.  So  decidedly  are  amiability  and  mild- 
ness their  characteristics, that  I  confess  I  look  upon  that  youth 
who  distinguished  himself  by  the  slaughter  of  these  inoffen- 
sive persons,  as  a  false-hearted  brigand,  who,  pretending  to 
philanthropic  motives,  was  secretly  influenced  only  by  the 
wealth  stored  up  within  their  castles,  and  the  hope  of 
plunder.  And  I  lean  the  more  to  this  opinion  from  finding 
that  even  the  historian  of  those  exploits,  with  all  his  partial- 
ity for  his  hero,  is  fain  to  admit  that  the  slaughtered  monsters 
in  question  were  of  a  very  innocent  and  simple  turn  ;  ex- 
tremely guileless  and  ready  of  belief ;  lending  a  credulous 
ear  to  the  most  improbable  tales  ;  suffering  themselves  to  be 
easily  entrapped  into  pits ;  and  even  (as  in  the  case  of  the 
Welsh  giant)  with  an  excess  of  the  hospitable  politeness  of 
a  landlord,  ripping  themselves  open,  rather  than  hint  at  the 
possibility  of  their  guests  being  versed  in  the  vagabond  arts 
of  sleight-of-hand  and  hocus-pocus. 

The  Kentucky  giant  was  but  another  illustration  of  the 
truth  of  this  position.  He  had  a  weakness  in  the  region  of 
the  knees,  and  a  trustfulness  in  his  long  face,  which  ap- 
pealed even  to  five-feet-nine  for  encouragement  and  support. 
He  was  only  twenty-five  years  old,  he  said,  and  had  grown 
recently,  for  it  had  been  found  necessary  to  make  an  addi- 
tion to  the  legs  of  his  inexpressibles.  At  fifteen  he  was  a 
short  boy,  and  in  those  days  his  English  father  and  Irish 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  163 

mother  had  rather  snubbed  him,  as  being  too  small  of  stature 
to  sustain  the  credit  of  the  family.  He  added  that  his 
health  had  not  been  good,  though  it  was  better  now  ;  but 
short  people  are  not  wanting  who  whisper  that  he  drinks  too 
hard. 

I  understand  he  drives  a  hackney-coach,  though  how  he 
does  it,  unless  he  stands  on  the  footboard  behind,  and  lies 
along  the  roof  upon  his  chest,  with  his  chin  in  the  box,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  comprehend.  He  brought  his  gun  with 
him,  as  a  curiosity.  Christened  "The  Little  Rifle,"  and 
displayed  outside  a  shop-window,  it  would  make  the  fortune 
of  any  retail  business  in  Holborn.  When  he  had  shown 
himself  and  talked  a  little  while,  he  withdrew  with  his 
pocket-instrument,  and  went  bobbing  down  the  cabin,  among 
men  of  six  feet  high  and  upwards,  like  a  lighthouse  walking 
among  lamp-posts. 

Within  a  few  minutes  afterward,  we  were  out  of  the  canal, 
and  in  the  Ohio  River  again. 

The  arrangements  of  the  boat  were  like  those  of  the  Mes- 
senger, and  the  passengers  were  of  the  same  order  of  people. 
We  fed  at  the  same  times,  on  the  same  kind  of  viands,  in 
the  same  dull  manner,  and  with  the  same  observances.  The 
company  appeared  to  be  oppressed  by  the  same  tremendous 
concealments,  and  had  as  little  capacity  of  enjoyment  or 
light-heartedness.  I  never  in  my  life  did  see  such  listless, 
heavy  dullness  as  brooded  over  these  meals  ;  the  very  recol- 
lection of  it  weighs  me  down,  and  makes  me,  for  the  mo- 
ment, wretched.  Reading  and  writing  on  my  knee,  in  our 
little  cabin,  I  really  dreaded  the  coming  of  the  hour  that 
summoned  us  to  table  ;  and  was  as  glad  to  escape  from 
it  again,  as  if  it  had  been  a  penance  or  a  punishment. 
Healthy  cheerfulness  and  good  spirits  forming  a  part  of  the 
banquet,  I  could  soak  my  crusts  in  the  fountain  with  Le 
Sage's  strolling  player,  and  revel  in  their  glad  enjoyment ; 
but  sitting  down  with  so  many  fellow-animals  to  ward  off 
thirst  and  hunger  as  a  business  ;  to  empty,  each  creature, 
his  Yahoo's  trough  as  quickly  as  he  can,  and  then  slink 
sullenly  away  ;  to  have  these  social  sacraments  stripped  of 
every  thing  but  the  mere  greedy  satisfaction  of  the  natural 
cravings  ;  goes  so  against  the  grain  with  me,  that  I  seriously 
believe  the  recollection  of  these  funereal  feasts  will  be  a 
waking  nightmare  to  me  all  my  life. 

There  was  some  relief  in  this   boat,  too,  which  there  had 
not  been  in  the  other,  for  the  captain  (a  blunt  good-natured 


i64  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

fellow),  had  his  handsome  wife  with  him,  who  was  disposed 
to  be  lively  and  agreeable,  as  were  a  few  other  lady-passengers 
who  had  their  seats  about  us  at  the  same  end  of  the  table. 
But  nothing  could  have  made  head  against  the  depressing 
influence  of  the  general  body.  There  was  a  magnetism  of 
dullness  in  them  which  would  have  beaten  down  the  most 
facetious  companion  that  the  earth  ever  knew.  A  jest  would 
have  been  a  crime  and  a  smile  would  have  faded  into  a  grin- 
ning horror.  Such  deadly  leaden  people  ;  such  systematic 
plodding  weary  insupportable  heaviness  ;  such  a  mass  of 
animated  indigestion  in  respect  to  all  that  was  genial,  jovial, 
frank,  social,  or  hearty  ;  never  sure  was  brought  together 
elsewhere  since  the  world  began. 

Nor  was  the  scenery,  as  we  approached  the  junction  of 
the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers,  at  all  inspiriting  in  its  influ- 
ence. The  trees  were  stunted  in  their  growth  ;  the  banks 
were  low  and  flat  ;  the  settlements  and  log  cabins  fewer  in 
number  ;  their  inhabitants  more  wan  and  wretched  than  any 
we  had  encountered  yet.  No  songs  of  birds  were  in  the  air, 
no  pleasant  scents,  no  moving  lights  and  shadows  from 
passing  clouds.  Hour  after  hour  the  changeless  glare  of  the 
hot,  unwinking  sky,  shone  upon  the  same  monotonous  ob- 
jects. Hour  after  hour,  the  river  rolled  along  as  wearily 
and  as  slowly  as  the  time  itself. 

At  length,  upon  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  we  arrived 
at  a  spot  so  much  more  desolate  than  any  we  had  yet  beheld, 
that  the  forlornest  places  we  had  passed,  were  in  compari- 
son with  it,  full  of  interest.  At  the  junction  of  the  two 
rivers,  on  ground  so  flat  and  low  and  marshy,  that  at  cer- 
tain seasons  of  the  year  it  is  inundated  to  the  house-top, 
lies  a  breeding-place  of  fever,  ague,  and  death  ;  vaunted  in 
England  as  a  mine  of  Golden  Hope,  and  speculated  in,  on 
the  faith  of  monstrous  representations,  to  many  people's 
ruin.  A  dismal  swamp,  on  which  the  half-built  houses  rot 
away  ;  cleared  here  and  there  for  the  space  of  a  few  yards  ; 
and  teeming,  then,  with  rank  unwholesome  vegetation,  in 
whose  baleful  shade  the  wretched  wanderers  who  are  tempted 
hither,  droop,  and  die,  and  lay  their  bones  ;  the  hateful 
Mississippi  circling  and  eddying  before  it,  and  turning  off 
upon  its  southern  course  a  slimy  monster  hideous  to  behold  ; 
a  hotbed  of  disease,  an  ugly  sepulcher,  a  grave  uncheered 
by  any  gleam  of  promise  ;  a  place  without  one  single 
quality,  in  earth  or  air  or  water,  to  commend  it  :  such  is  this 
dismal  Cairo. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  165 

But  what  words  shall  describe  the  Mississippi,  great  father 
of  rivers,  who  (praise  be  to  heaven)  has  no  young  children 
like  him  !  An  enormous  ditch,  sometimes  two  or  three 
miles  wide,  running  liquid  mud,  six  miles  an  hour ;  its 
strong  and  frothy  current  choked  and  obstructed  every- 
where by  huge  logs  and  whole  forest  trees  :  now  twining 
themselves  together  in  great  rafts,  from  the  interstices  of 
which  a  sedgy  lazy  foam  works  up,  to  float  upon  the  water's 
top  ;  now  rolling  past  like  monstrous  bodies,  their  tangled 
roots  showing  like  matted  hair  ;  now  glancing  singly  by 
like  giant  leeches  ;  and  now  writhing  round  and  round  in 
the  vortex  of  some  small  whirlpool  like  wounded  snakes. 
The  banks  low,  the  trees  dwarfish,  the  marshes  swarming 
with  frogs,  the  wretched  cabins  few  and  far  apart,  the 
inmates  hollow-cheeked  and  pale,  the  weather  very  hot, 
musquitoes  penetrating  into  every  crack  and  crevice  of  the 
boat,  mud  and  slime  on  every  thing  :  nothing  pleasant  in 
its  aspect,  but  the  harmless  lightning  which  flickers  every 
night  upon  the  dark  horizon. 

For  two  days  we  toiled  up  this  foul  stream,  striking  con- 
stantly against  the  floating  timber,  or  stopping  to  avoid  those 
more  dangerous  obstacles,  the  snags,  or  sawyers,  which  are 
the  hidden  trunks  of  trees  that  have  their  roots  below  the 
tide.  When  the  nights  are  very  dark,  the  look-out  stationed 
in  the,  head  of  the  boat,  knows  by  the  ripple  of  the  water  if 
any  great  impediment  be  near  at  hand,  and  rings  a  bell  beside 
him,  which  is  the  signal  for  the  engine  to  be  stopped  :  but 
always  in  the  night  this  bell  has  work  to  do,  and  after  every 
ring,  there  comes  a  blow  which  renders  it  no  easy  matter  to 
remain  in  bed. 

The  decline  of  day  here  was  very  gorgeous  ;  tinging  the 
firmament  deeply  with  red  and  gold,  up  to  the  very  key- 
stone of  the  arch  above  us.  As  the  sun  went  down  behind 
the  bank,  the  slightest  blades  of  grass  upon  it  seemed  to 
become  as  distinctly  visible  as  the  arteries  in  the  skeleton  of 
a  leaf  ;  and  when,  a»  it  slowly  sank,  the  red  and  golden  bars 
upon  the  water  grew  dimmer,  and  dimmer  yet,  as  if  they 
were  sinking  too  ;  and  all  the  glowing  colors  of  departing 
day  paled,  inch  by  inch,  before  the  somber  night  ;  the  scene 
became  a  thousand  times  more  lonesome  and  more 
dreary  than  before,  and  all  its  influences  darkened  with  the 
sky. 

We  drank  the  muddy  water  of  this  river  while  we  were 
upon  it.     It  is  considered  wholesome  by  the  natives,  and  is 


166  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

something  more  opaque  than  gruel.  I  have  seen  water  like 
it  at  the  Filter-shops,  but  nowhere  else. 

On  the  fourth  night  after  leaving  Louisville,  we  reached 
St.  Louis,  and  here  I  witnessed  the  conclusion  of  an  inci- 
dent, trifling  enough  in  itself,  but  very  pleasant  to  see,  which 
had  interested  me  during  the  whole  journey. 

There  was  a  little  woman  on  board,  with  a  little  baby  ; 
and  both  little  woman  and  little  child  were  cheerful,  good- 
looking,  bright-eyed,  and  fair  to  see.  The  little  woman  had 
been  passing  a  long  time  with  her  sick  mother  in  New  York, 
and  had  left  her  home  in  St.  Louis,  in  that  condition  in 
which  ladies  who  truly  love  their  lords  desire  to  be.  The 
baby  was  born  in  her  mother's  house  ;  and  she  had  not 
seen  her  husband  (to  whom  she  was  now  returning),  for 
twelve  months  :  having  left  him  a  month  or  two  after  their 
marriage. 

Well,  to  be  sure,  there  never  was  a  little  woman  so  full  of 
hope,  and  tenderness,  and  love,  and  anxiety,  as  this  little 
woman  was  :  and  all  day  long  she  wondered  whether  "  He  " 
would  be'at  the  wharf  ;  and  whether  "  He  "  had  got  her  letter  ; 
and  whether,  if  she  sent  the  baby  ashore  by  somebody  else, 
"  He  "  would  know  it,  meeting  it  in  the  street  :  which,  seeing 
that  he  had  never  set  eyes  upon  it  in  his  life,  was  not  very 
likely  in  the  abstract,  but  was  probable  enough  to  the  young 
mother.  She  was  such  an  artless  little  creature  ;  and  was  in 
such  a  sunny,  beaming,  hopeful  state  ;  and  let  out  all  this 
matter  clinging  close  about  her  heart,  so  freely  ;  that  all  the 
other  lady  passengers  entered  into  the  spirit  of  it  as  much  a? 
she  ;  and  the  captain  (who  heard  all  about  it  from  his  wife), 
was  wondrous  sly,  I  promise  you  :  inquiring  every  time  we 
met  at  table,  as  in  forgetfulness,  whether  she  expected  any 
body  to  meet  her  at  St.  Louis,  and  whether  she  would  want 
to  go  ashore  the  night  we  reached  it  (but  he  supposed  she 
wouldn't),  and  cutting  many  other  dry  jokes  of  that  nature. 
There  was  one  little  weazen,  dried-apple-faced  old  woman, 
who  took  occasion  to  doubt  the  constancy  of  husbands  in 
such  circumstances  of  bereavement ;  and  there  was  another 
lady  (with  a  lap-dog)  old  enough  to  moralize  on  the  light- 
ness of  human  affections,  and  yet  not  so  old  that  she  could 
help  nursing  the  baby,  now  and  then,  or  laughing  with  the 
rest,  when  the  little  woman  called  it  by  its  father's  name,  and 
asked  it  all  manner  of  fantastic  questions  concerning  him  in 
the  joy  of  her  heart. 

It  was  something  of  a  blow  to  the  little  woman,  that,  when 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  167 

we  were  within  twenty  miles  of  our  destination,  it  became 
clearly  necessary  to  put  this  baby  to  bed.  But  she  got  over 
it  with  the  same  good- humor  ;  tied  a  handkerchief  round  her 
head  ;  and  came  out  into  the  little  gallery  with  the  rest. 
Then  such  an  oracle  as  she  became  in  reference  to  the 
localities  !  and  such  facetiousness  as  was  displayed  by  the 
married  ladies  !  and  such  sympathy  as  was  shown  by  the 
single  ones  !  and  such  peals  of  laughter  as  the  little  woman 
herself  (who  would  just  as  soon  have  cried)  greeted  every 
jest  with  ! 

At  last  there  were  the  lights  of  St.  Louis,  and  here  was  the 
wharf,  and  those  were  the  steps  :  and  the  little  woman  cover- 
ing her  face  with  her  hands,  and  laughing  (or  seeming  to 
laugh)  more  than  ever,  ran  into  her  own  cabin,  and  shut  her- 
self up.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  in  the  charming  inconsistency 
of  such  excitement,  she  stopped  her  ears,  lest  she  should 
hear  "  Him  "  asking  for  her  :  but  I  did  not  see  her  do  it. 

Then  a  great  crowd  of  people  rushed  on  board,  though 
the  boat  was  not  yet  made  fast,  but  was  wandering  about, 
among  the  other  boats,  to  find  a  landing-place  ;  and  every 
body  looked  for  the  husband  ;  and  nobody  saw  him  ;  when, 
in  the  midst  of  us  all — heaven  knows  how  she  ever  got  there 
— there  was  the  little  woman  clinging  with  both  arms  tight 
round  the  neck  of  a  fine,  good-looking,  sturdy  young  fellow  ! 
and  in  a  moment  afterward,  there  she  was  again,  actually 
clapping  her  little  hands  for  joy,  as  she  dragged  him  through 
the  small  door  of  her  cabin,  to  look  at  the  baby  as  he  lay 
asleep  ! 

We  went  to  a  large  hotel,  called  the  Planters'  House  :  built 
like  an  English  hospital,  with  long  passages  and  bare  walls, 
and  sky-lights  above  the  room-doors  for  the  free  circulation 
of  air.  There  were  a  great  many  boarders  in  it ;  and  as 
many  lights  sparkled  and  glistened  from  the  windows  down 
into  the  street  below,  when  we  drove  up,  as  if  it  had  been 
illuminated  on  some  occasion  of  rejoicing.  It  is  an  excel- 
lent house,  and  the  proprietors  have  most  bountiful  notions 
of  providing  the  creature  comforts.  Dining  alone  with  my 
wife  in  our  own  room,  one  day,  I  counted  fourteen  dishes  on 
the  table  at  once. 

In  the  old  French  portion  of  the  town,  the  thoroughfares 
are  narrow  and  crooked,  and  some  of  the  houses  are  very 
quaint  and  picturesque  :  being  built  of  wood,  with  tumble- 
down galleries  before  the  windows,  approachable  by  stairs 
or  rather  ladders  from  the  street.     There  are   queer  little 


168  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

barbers'-shops  and  drinking-houses  too,  in  this  quarter  ;  and 
abundance  of  crazy  old  tenements  with  blinking  casements, 
such  as  may  be  seen  in  Flanders.  Some  of  these  ancient 
habitations,  with  high  garret  gable-windows  perking  into  the 
roofs,  have  a  kind  of  French  shrug  about  them  ;  and  being 
lop-sided  with  age,  appear  to  hold  their  heads  askew,  be- 
sides, as  if  they  were  grimacing  in  astonishment  at  the 
American  improvements. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  these  consist  of  wharves 
and  warehouses,  and  new  buildings  in  all  directions  ;  and  of 
a  great  many  vast  plans  which  are  still  "progressing." 
Already,  however,  some  very  good  houses,  broad  streets,  and 
marble-fronted  shops,  have  gone  so  far' ahead  as  to  be  in  a 
state  of  completion  ;  and  the  town  bids  fair  in  a  few  years 
to  improve  considerably  ;  though  it  is  not  likely  ever  to  vie, 
in  point  of  elegance  or  beauty,  with  Cincinnati. 

The  Roman  Catholic  religion,  introduced  here  by  the  early 
French  settlers,  prevails  extensively.  Among  the  public  in- 
stitutions are  a  Jesuit  college  ;  a  convent  for  "  the  Ladies  of 
the  Sacred  Heart ; "  and  a  large  chapel  attached  to  the  col- 
lege, which  was  in  course  of  erection  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
and  was  intended  to  be  consecrated  on  the  second  of  Decem- 
ber in  the  next  year.  The  architect  of  this  building  is  one 
of  the  reverend  fathers  of  the  school,  and  the  works  proceed 
under  his  sole  direction.  The  organ  will  be  sent  from  Bel- 
gium. 

In  addition  to  these  establishments,  there  is  a  Roman 
Catholic  cathedral,  dedicated  to  Saint  Francis  Xavier  ;  and 
a  hospital,  founded  by  the  munificence  of  a  deceased  resi- 
dent, and  who  was  a  member  of  that  church.  It  also  sends 
missionaries  from  hence  among  the  Indian  tribes. 

The  Unitarian  church  is  represented,  in  this  remote  place, 
as  in  most  other  parts  of  America,  by  a  gentleman  of  great 
worth  and  excellence.  The  poor  have  good  reason  to  re- 
member and  bless  it ;  for  it  befriends  them,  and  aids  the 
cause  of  rational  education,  without  any  sectarian  or  selfish 
views  ;  it  is  liberal  in  all  its  actions  ;  of  kind  construction  ; 
and  as  wide  benevolence. 

There  are  three  free  schools  already  erected,  and  in  full 
operation  in  this  city.  A  fourth  is  building,  and  will  soon 
be  opened. 

No  man  ever  admits  the  unhealthiness  of  the  place  he 
dwells  in  (unless  he  is  going  away  from  it),  and  I  shall  there- 
fore, I  have  no  doubt,  be  at  issue  with  the  inhabitants  of  St. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  169 

Louis,  in  questioning  the  perfect  salubrity  of  its  climate,  and 
in  hinting  that  1  think  it  must  rather  dispose  to  fever,  in  the 
summer  and  autumnal  season.  Just  adding,  that  it  is  very 
hot,  lies  among  great  rivers,  and  has  vast  tracts  of  undrained 
swampy  land  around  it,  I  leave  the  reader  to  form  his  own 
opinion. 

As  I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  a  prairie  before  turning 
back  from  the  furthest  point  of  my  wanderings  ;  and  as  some 
gentlemen  of  the  town  had,  in  their  hospitable  considera- 
tion, an  equal  desire  to  gratify  me  ;  a  day  was  fixed,  before 
my  departure,  for  an  expedition  to  the  Looking- Glass  Prairie, 
which  is  within  thirty  miles  of  the  town.  Deeming  it  pos- 
sible that  my  readers  may  not  object  to  know  what  kind  of 
thing  such  a  gipsy  party  may  be  at  that  distance  from  home, 
and  among  what  sort  of  objects  it  moves,  I  will  describe  the 
jaunt  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  JAUNT  TO  THE  LOOKING-GLASS  PRAIRIE  AND  BACK. 

I  may  premise  that  the  word  prairie  is  variously  pro- 
nounced paraaer,  parearer,  paroarer.  The  latter  mode  of 
pronunciation  is  perhaps  the  most  in  favor. 

We  were  fourteen  in  all,  and  all  young  men  :  indeed  it  is 
a  singular  though  very  natural  feature  in  the  society  of  these 
distant  settlements,  that  it  is  mainly  composed  of  advent- 
urous persons  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  has  very  few  gray 
heads  among  it.  There  were  no  ladies  ;  the  trip  being  a 
fatiguing  one  ;  and  we  were  to  start  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  punctually. 

I  was  called  at  four,  that  I  might  be  certain  of  keeping 
nobody  waiting  ;  and  having  got  some  bread  and  milk  for 
breakfast,  threw  up  the  window  and  looked  down  into  the 
street,  expecting  to  see  the  whole  party  busily  astir,  and 
great  preparations  going  on  below.  But  as  every  thing  was 
very  quiet,  and  the  street  presented  that  hopeless  aspect  with 
which  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  is  familiar  elsewhere,  I 
deemed  it  as  well  to  go  to  bed  again,  and  went  accordingly. 

I  awoke  again  at  seven  o'clock,  and  by  that  time  the  party 
had  assembled,  and  were  gathered  round  one  light  carriage, 
with  a  very  stout  axletree  ;  one  something  on  wheels  like 
an  amateur  carrier's  cart  ;  one  double  phaeton  of  great  an- 


17°  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

tiquity  and  unearthly  construction  ;  one  gig  with  a  great 
hole  in  its  back  and  a  broken  head  ;  and  one  rider  on  horse- 
back who  was  to  go  on  before.  I  got  into  the  first  coach 
with  three  companions  ;  the  rest  bestowed  themselves  in  the 
other  vehicles  ;  two  large  baskets  were  made  fast  to  the 
lightest  ;  two  large  stone  jars  in  wicker  cases,  technically 
known  as  demijohns,  were  consigned  to  the  "  least  rowdy  " 
of  the  party  for  safe-keeping  ;  and  the  procession  moved  off 
to  the  ferry-boat,  in  which  it  was  to  cross  the  river  bodily, 
men,  horses,  carriages,  and  all,  as  the  manner  in  these 
parts  is. 

We  got  over  the  river  in  due  course,  and  mustered  again 
before  a  little  wooden  box  on  wheels,  hove  down  all  aslant  in 
a  morass,  with  "  merchant  tailor  "  painted  in  very  large 
letters  over  the  door.  Having  settled  the  order  of  proceed- 
ing, and  the  road  to  be  taken,  we  started  off  once  more  and 
began  to  make  our  way  through  an  ill-favored  black  hol- 
low, called,  less  expressively,  the  American  Bottom. 

The  previous  day  had  been — not  to  say  hot,  for  the  term 
is  weak  and  lukewarm  in  its  power  of  conveying  an  idea  of 
the  temperature.  The  town  had  been  on  fire  ;  in  a  blaze. 
But  at  night  it  had  come  on  to  rain  in  torrents,  and  all 
night  long  it  had  rained  without  cessation.  We  had  a  pair 
of  very  strong  horses,  but  traveled  at  the  rate  of  little  more 
than  a  couple  of  miles  an  hour,  through  one  unbroken 
slough  of  black  mud  and  water.  It  had  no  variety  but  in 
depth.  Now  it  was  only  half  over  the  wheels,  now  it  hid 
the  axletree,  and  now  the  coach  sank  down  in  it  almost  to 
the  windows.  The  air  resounded  in  all  directions  with  the 
loud  chirping  of  the  frogs,  who,  with  the  pigs  (a  coarse, 
ugly  breed,  as  unwholesome-looking  as  though  they  were 
the  spontaneous  growth  of  the  country),  had  the  whole 
scene  to  themselves.  Here  and  there  we  passed  a  log  hut : 
but  the  wretched  cabins  were  wide  apart  and  thinly  scat- 
tered, for  though  the  soil  is  very  rich  in  this  place,  few- 
people  can  exist  in  such  a  deadly  atmosphere.  On  either 
side  of  the  track,  if  it  deserve  the  name,  was  the  thick 
"  bush  ;  "  and  every  where  was  stagnant,  slimy,  rotten,  filthy 
water. 

As  it  is  the  custom  in  these  parts  to  give  a  horse  a  gallon 
or  so  of  cold  water  whenever  he  is  in  a  foam  with  heat,  we 
halted  for  that  purpose,  at  a  log  inn  in  the  wood,  far  re- 
moved from  any  other  residence.  It  consisted  of  one  room, 
bare-roofed  and  bare-walled  of  course,  with  a  loft  above. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  i)i 

The  ministering  priest  was  a  swarthy  young  savage,  in  a 
shirt  of  cotton  print  like  bed-furniture,  and  a  pair  of  ragged 
trowsers.  There  were  a  couple  of  young  boys,  too,  nearly 
naked,  lying  idly  by  the  well ;  and  they,  and  he,  and  the 
traveler  at  the  inn,  turned  out  to  look  at  us. 

The  traveler  was  an  old  man  with  a  gray  gristly  beard 
two  inches  long,  a  shaggy  mustache  of  the  same  hue,  and 
enormous  eyebows  ;  which  almost  obscured  his  lazy,  semi- 
drunken  glance,  as  he  stood  regarding  us  with  folded  arms  : 
poising  himself  alternately  upon  his  toes  and  heels.  On 
being  addressed  by  one  of  the  party,  he  drew  nearer,  and 
said,  rubbing  his  chin  (which  scraped  under  his  horny  hand 
like  fresh  gravel  beneath  a  nailed  shoe),  that  he  was  from 
Delaware,  and  had  lately  bought  a  farm  "down  there," 
pointing  into  one  of  the  marshes  where  the  stunted  trees 
were  thickest.  He  was  "  going,"  he  added,  to  St.  Louis,  to 
fetch  his  family,  whom  he  had  left  behind  ;  but  he  seemed 
in  no  great  hurry  to  bring  on  these  incumbrances,  for  when 
we  moved  away,  he  loitered  back  into  the  cabin,  and  was 
plainly  bent  on  stopping  there  so  long  as  his  money  lasted. 
He  was  a  great  politician  of  course,  and  explained  his  opin- 
ions at  some  length  to  one  of  our  company  ;  but  I  only 
remember  that  he  concluded  with  two  sentiments,  one  of 
which  was,  some  body  for  ever  ;  and  the  other,  blast  every 
body  else  !  which  is  by  no  means  a  bad  abstract  of  the 
general  creed  in  these  matters. 

When  the  horses  were  swollen  out  to  about  twice  their 
natural  dimensions  (there  seems  to  be  an  idea  here,  that 
this  kind  of  inflation  improves  their  going),  we  went  forward 
again,  through  mud  and  mire,  and  damp,  and  festering  heat, 
and  brake  and  bush,  attended  always  by  the  music  of  the 
frogs  and  pigs,  until  nearly  noon,  when  we  halted  at  a  place 
called  Belleville. 

Belleville  was  a  small  collection  of  wooden  houses, 
huddled  together  in  the  very  heart  of  the  bush  and  swamp. 
Many  of  them  had  singularly  bright  doors  of  red  and  yellow  ; 
for  the  place  had  been  lately  visited  by  a  traveling  painter, 
"who  got  along,"  as  I  was  told,  "  by  eating  his  way."  The 
criminal  court  was  sitting,  and  was  at  that  moment  trying 
some  criminals  for  horse-stealing  :  with  whom  it  would 
most  likely  go  hard  :  for  live  stock  of  all  kinds  being 
necessarily  very  much  exposed  in  the  woods,  is  held  by 
the  community  in  rather  higher  value  than  human  life  • 
and  for  this  reason,  juries  generally  make  a  point  of  find- 


172  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

ing  all   men   indicted   for   cattle-stealing,    guilty,    whether 
or  no. 

The  horses  belonging  to  the  bar,  the  judge,  and  witnesses, 
were  tied  to  temporary  racks  set  up  roughly  in  the  road  ; 
by  which  is  to  be  understood,  a  forest  path,  nearly  knee- 
deep  in  mud  and  slime. 

There  was  a  hotel  in  this  place,  which,  like  all  hotels  in 
America,  had  its  large  dining-room  for  the  public  table. 
It  was  an  odd,  shambling,  low-roofed  out-house,  half-cow- 
shed and  half-kitchen,  with  a  coarse  brown  canvas  table- 
cloth, and  tin  sconces  stuck  against  the  walls,  to  hold 
candles  at  supper-time.  The  horseman  had  gone  forward 
to  have  coffee  and  some  eatables  prepared,  and  they  were  by 
this  time  nearly  ready.  He  had  ordered  "  wheat-bread  and 
chicken-fixings,"  in  preference  to  "  corn-bread  and  common 
doings."  The  latter  kind  of  refection  includes  only  pork 
and  bacon.  The  former  comprehends  broiled  ham,  sau- 
sage, veal  cutlets,  steaks,  and  such  other  viands  of  that 
nature  as  my  be  supposed,  by  a  tolerably  wide  poetical  con- 
struction, "  to  fix  "  a  chicken  comfortably  in  the  digestive 
organs  of  any  lady  or  gentleman. 

On  one  of  the  door-posts  at  this  inn,  was  a  tin  plate, 
whereon  was  inscribed  in  characters  of  gold,  "  Doctor  Cro- 
cus ;  "  and  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  pasted  up  by  the  side  of 
this  plate,  was  a  written  announcement  that  Dr.  Crocus  would 
that  evening  deliver  a  lecture  on  phrenology  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Belleville  public  ;  at  a  charge,  for  admission,  of  so 
much  a  head. 

Straying  up-stairs,  during  the  preparation  of  the  chicken 
fixings,  I  happened  to  pass  the  doctor's  chamber  ;  and  as  the 
door  stood  wide  open,  and  the  room  was  empty,  I  made  bold 
to  peep  in. 

It  was  a  bare,  unfurnished,  comfortless  room,  with  an  un- 
framed  portrait  hanging  up  at  the  head  of  the  bed  ;  a  like- 
ness, I  take  it,  of  the  doctor,  for  the  forehead  was  fully  dis- 
played, and  great  stress  was  laid  by  the  artist  upon  its  phre- 
ological  developments.  The  bed  itself  was  covered  with  an 
old  patch-work  counterpane.  The  room  was  destitute  of  car- 
pet or  of  curtain.  There  was  a  damp  fire-place  without  any 
stove,  full  of  wood  ashes  ;  a  chair,  and  a  very  small  table  ; 
and  on  the  last-named  piece  of  furniture  was  displayed,  in 
grand  array,  the  doctor's  library,  consisting  of  some  half- 
dozen  greasy  old  books. 

Now,  it  certainly  looked  about  the  last  apartment  on  the 


AxVIERICAN  NOTES.  173 

whole  earth  out  of  which  any  man  would  be  likely  to  get  any 
thing  to  do  him  good.  But  the  door,  as  I  have  said,  stood 
coaxingly  open,  and  plainly  said  in  conjunction  with  the 
chair,  the  portrait,  the  table  and  the  books,  "  Walk  in,  gen- 
tlemen, walk  in  !  Don't  be  ill,  gentlemen,  when  you  may  be 
well  in  no  time.  Doctor  Crocus  is  here,  gentlemen,  the  cel- 
ebrated Dr.  Crocus  !  Dr.  Crocus  has  come  all  this  way  to 
cure  you,  gentlemen.  If  you  haven't  heard  of  Dr.  Crocus, 
it's  your  fault,  gentlemen,  who  live  a  little  way  out  of  the 
world  here  ;  not  Dr.  Crocus's.  Walk  in,  gentlemen,  walk 
in  !  " 

In*  the  passage  below,  when  I  went  down  stairs  again,  was 
Dr.  Crocus  himself.  A  crowd  had  flocked  in  from  the  court- 
house, and  a  voice  from  among  them  called  out  to  the  land- 
lord, "  Colonel !  introduce  Doctor  Crocus." 

"  Mr.  Dickens,"  says  the  colonel,  "  Doctor  Crocus." 

Upon  which  Doctor  Crocus,  who  is  a  tall,  fine-looking 
Scotchman,  but  rather  fierce  and  warlike  in  appearance  for  a 
professor  of  the  peaceful  art  of  healing,  bursts  out  of  the  con- 
course with  his  right  arm  extended,  and  his  chest  thrown  out 
as  far  as  it  will  possibly  come,  and  says  : 

"  Your  countryman,  sir  !  " 

Whereupon  Doctor  Crocus  and  I  shake  hands  ;  and  Doc- 
tor Crocus  looks  as  if  I  didn't  by  any  means  realize  his  ex- 
pectations, which,  in  a  linen  blouse,  and  a  great  straw  hat, 
with  a  green  ribbon,  and  no  gloves,  and  my  face  and  nose 
profusely  ornamented  with  the  stings  of  musquitoes  and  the 
bites  of  bugs,  it  is  very  likely  I  did  not. 

"  Long  in  these  parts,  sir  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Three  or  four  months,  sir,"  says  the  doctor. 

"  Do  you  think  of  soon  returning  to  the  old  country  ? ,! 
says  I. 

Doctor  Crocus  makes  no  verbal  answer,  but  gives  me  at. 
imploring  look,  which  says  so  plainly,  "  Will  you  ask  me  that 
again,  a  little  louder,  if  you  please  ?"  that  I  repeat  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Think  of  soon  returning  to  the  old  country,  sir  !  "  re- 
peats the  doctor. 

"  To  the  old  country,  sir,"  I  rejoin. 

Doctor  Crocus  looks  round  upon  the  crowd  to  observe  the 
effect  he  produces,  rubs  his  hands,  and  says,  in  a  very  loud 
voice  : 

"  Not  yet  awhile,  sir,  not  yet.  You  won't  catch  me  at 
that  just  yet,  sir.     I  am  a  little  too  fond  of  freedom  for  that% 


174  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

sir.  Ha,  ha  !  It's  not  so  easy  for  a  man  to  tear  himself  from 
a  free  country  such  as  this  is,  sir.  Ha,  ha  !  No,  no  !  Ha, 
ha  !     None  of  that  till  one's  obliged  to  do  it,  sir.     No,  no  ! 

As  Doctor  Crocus  says  these  latter  words,  he  shakes  his 
head,  knowingly,  and  laughs  again.  Many  of  the  bystanders 
shake  their  heads  in  concert  with  the  doctor,  and  laugh  too, 
and  look  at  each  other  as  much  as  to  say,  "  A  pretty  bright 
first-rate  sort  of  chap  is  Crocus!  "  and,  unless  I  am  very  much 
mistaken,  a  good  many  people  went  to  the  lecture  that  night, 
who  never  thought  about  phrenology,  or  about  Doctor  Cro- 
cus either,  in  all  their  lives  before. 

From  Belleville,  we  went  on,  through  the  same  desolate 
kind  of  waste,  and  constantly  attended,  without  the  interval 
of  a  moment,  by  the  same  music  ;  until  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  we  halted  once  more  at  a  village  called  Leb- 
anon to  inflate  the  horses  again,  and  give  them  some  corn 
besides  ;  of  which  they  stood  much  in  need.  Pending  this 
ceremony  I  walked  into  the  village,  where  I  met  a  full-sized 
dwelling-house  coming  down-hill  at  a  round  trot,  drawn  by 
a  score  or  more  of  oxen. 

The  public-house  was  so  very  clean  and  good  a  one,  that 
the  managers  of  the  jaunt  resolved  to  return  to  it  and  put  up 
there  for  the  night,  if  possible.  This  course  decided  on,  and 
the  horses  being  well  refreshed,  we  again  pushed  forward, 
and  came  upon  the  prairie  at  sunset. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  why,  or  how — though  it  was 
possible  from  having  heard  and  read  so  much  about  it — but 
the  effect  on  me  was  disappointment.  Looking  toward  the 
setting  sun,  there  lay,  stretched  out  before  my  view,  a  vast 
expanse  of  level  ground  ;  unbroken,  save  by  one  thin  line 
of  trees,  which  scarcely  amounted  to  a  scratch  upon  the 
great  blank  ;  until  it  met  the  glowing  sky,  wherein  it  seemed 
to  dip  :  mingling  with  its  rich  colors,  and  mellowing  in  its 
distant  blue.  There  it  lay,  a  tranquil  sea  or  lake  without 
water,  if  such  a  simile  be  admissible,  with  the  day  going 
down  upon  it :  a  few  birds  wheeling  here  and  there  :  and 
silence  reigning  paramount  around.  But  the  grass  was  not 
yet  high  ;  there  were  bare  black  patches  on  the  ground  ; 
and  the  few  wild  flowers  that  the  eye  could  see  were  poor 
and  scanty.  Great  as  the  picture  was,  its  very  flatness  and 
extent,  which  left  nothing  to  the  imagination,  tamed  it 
down  and  cramped  its  interest.  I  felt  little  of  that  sense  of 
freedom  and  exhilaration  which  a  Scottish  heath  inspires,  or 
even  our  English  downs  awaken.     It  was  lonely  and  wild, 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  175 

but  oppressive  in  its  barren  monotony.  I  felt  that  in  trav- 
ersing the  prairies  I  could  never  abandon  myself  to  the 
scene,  forgetful  of  all  else  ;  as  I  should  do  instinctively,  were 
the  heather  underneath  my  feet,  or  an  iron-bound  coast 
beyond  ;  but  should  often  glance  toward  the  distant  and 
frequently  receding  line  of  the  horizon,  and  wish  it  gained 
and  passed.  It  is  not  a  scene  to  be  forgotten,  but  it  is 
scarcely  one,  I  think  (at  all  events,  as  I  saw  it),  to  remem- 
ber with  much  pleasure,  or  to  covet  the  looking-on  again,  in 
after  life. 

We  encamped  near  a  solitary  log-house,  for  the  sake  of 
its  water,  and  dined  upon  the  plain.  The  baskets  contained 
roast  fowls,  buffalo's  tongue  (an  exquisite  dainty,  by  the 
way),  ham,  bread,  cheese,  and  butter  ;  biscuits,  champagne, 
sherry  ;  lemons  and  sugar  for  punch  ;  and  abundance  of 
rough  ice.  The  meal  was  delicious,  and  the  entertainers 
were  the  soul  of  kindness  and  good-humor.  I  have  often 
recalled  that  cheerful  party  to  my  pleasant  recollection  since, 
and  shall  not  easily  forget,  in  junketings  nearer  home  with 
friends  of  older  date,  my  boon  companions  on  the   prairie. 

Returning  to  Lebanon  that  night,  we  lay  at  the  little  inn 
at  which  we  had  halted  in  the  afternoon.  In  point  of  clean- 
liness and  comfort  it  would  have  suffered  by  no  comparison 
with  any  English  ale-house,  of  a  homely  kind,  in   England. 

Rising  at  five  o'clock  next  morning,  I  took  a  walk  about 
the  village  :  none  of  the  houses  were  strolling  about  to-day, 
but  it  was  early  for  them  yet,  perhaps  ;  and  then  amused 
myself  by  lounging  in  a  kind  of  farm-yard  behind  the  tav- 
ern, of  which  the  leading  features  were,  a  strange  jumble  of 
rough  sheds  for  stables  5  a  rude  colonnade,  built  as  a  cool 
place  of  summer  resort  ;  a  deep'  well  ;  a  great  earthen 
mound  for  keeping  vegetables  in,  in  winter  time  ;  and  a 
pigeon-house,  whose  little  apertures  looked,  as  they  do  in  all 
pigeon-houses,  very  much  too  small  for  the  admission  of  the 
plump  and  swelling-breasted  birds  who  were  strutting  about 
it,  though  they  tried  to  get  in  never  so  hard.  That  interest 
exhausted,  I  took  a  survey  of  the  inn's  two  parlors,  which 
were  decorated  with  colored  prints  of  Washington,  and 
President  Madison,  and  of  a  white-faced  young  lady  (much 
speckled  by  the  flies),  who  held  up  her  gold  neck-chain  for 
the  admiration  the  spectator,  and  informed  all  admiring 
comers  that  she  was  "  Just  seventeen  :  "  although  I  should 
have  thought  her  older.  In  the  best  room  were  two  oil  por- 
traits of  the  kit-cat  size,  representing  the  landlord  and  his 


176  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

infant  son  ;  both  looking  as  bold  as  lions,  and  staring  out 
of  the  canvas  with  an  intensity  that  would  have  been  cheap 
at  any  price.  They  were  painted,  I  think,  by  the  artist  who 
had  touched  up  the  Bellville  doors  with  red  and  gold  ;  for 
I  seemed  to  recognize  his  style  immediately. 

After  breakfast,  we  started  to  return  by  a  different  way 
from  that  which  we  had  taken  yesterday,  and  coming  up  at 
ten  o'clock  with  an  encampment  of  German  emigrants  car- 
rying their  goods  in  carts,  who  had  made  a  rousing  fire 
which  they  were  just  quitting,  stopped  there  to  refresh. 
And  very  pleasant  the  fire  was  ;  for,  hot  though  it  had  been 
yesterday,  it  was  quite  cold  to-day,  and  the  wind  blew 
keenly.  Looming  in  the  distance,  as  we  rode  along,  was 
another  of  the  ancient  Indian  burial-places,  called  the 
Monks'  Mound  ;  in  memory  of  a  body  of  fanatics  of  the 
order  of  La  Trappe,  who  founded  a  desolate  convent  there, 
many  years  ago,  where  there  were  no  settlers  within  a  thou- 
sand miles,  and  were  all  swept  off  by  the  pernicious  climate  ; 
in  which  lamentable  fatality,  few  rational  people  will  sup- 
pose, perhaps,  that  society  experienced  any  very  severe 
deprivation. 

The  track  of  to-day  had  the  same  features  as  the  track  of 
yesterday.  There  was  the  swamp,  the  bush,  and  the  perpet- 
ual chorus  of  frogs,  the  rank  unseemly  growth,  the  unwhole- 
some steaming  earth.  Here  and  there,  and  frequently  too, 
we  encountered  a  solitary  broken-down  wagon,  full  of  some 
new  settler's  goods.  It  was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  one  of 
these  vehicles  deep  in  the  mire  ;  the  axle-tree  broken  ;  the 
wheel  lying  idly  by  its  side  ;  the  man  gone  miles  away,  to 
look  for  assistance  :  the  woman  seated  among  their  wander- 
ing household  gods  with  a  baby  at  her  breast,  a  picture  of 
forlorn,  dejected  patience  ;  the  team  of  oxen  crouching 
down  mournfully  in  the  mud,  and  breathing  forth  such 
clouds  of  vapor  from  their  mouths  and  nostrils  that  all  the 
damp  mist  and  fog  around  seemed  to  have  come  direct  from 
them. 

In  due  time  we  mustered  once  again  before  the  merchant 
tailor's,  and  having  done  so,  crossed  over  to  the  city  in  the 
ferry-boat ;  passing,  on  the  way,  a  spot  called  Bloody  Island, 
the  duelling  ground  of  St.  Louis,  and  so  designated  in  honor 
of  the  last  fatal  combat  fought  there,  which  was  with  pistols, 
breast  to  breast.  Both  combatants  fell  dead  upon  the 
ground  ;  and  possibly  some  rational  people  may  think  of 
them,  as  of  the  gloomy  madmen  on  the  Monks'  Mound,  that 
they  were  no  great  loss  to  the  community. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  W 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RETURN  TO  CINCINNATI. — A  STAGE-COACH  RIDE  FROM  THAT 
CITY  TO  COLUMBUS,  AND  THENCE  TO  SANDUSKY. — SO, 
BY    LAKE   ERIE,    TO    THE   FALLS   OF    NIAGARA. 

As  I  had  a  desire  to  travel  through  the  interior  of  the 
State  of  Ohio,  and  to  "  strike  the  lakes,"  as  the  phrase  is,  at 
a  small  town  called  Sandusky,  to  which  that  route  would 
conduct  us  on  our  way  to  Niagara,  we  had  to  return  from 
St.  Louis  by  the  way  we  had  come,  and  to  retrace  our  for- 
mer track  as  far  as  Cincinnati. 

The  day  on  which  we  were  to  take  leave  of  St.  Louis  be- 
ing very  fine  ;  and  the  steamboat,  which  was  to  have  started 
I  don't  know  how  early  in  the  morning,  postponing,  for  the 
third  or  fourth  time,  her  departure  until  the  afternoon ;  we 
rode  forward  to  an  old  French  village  on  the  river,  called 
properly  Carondelet,  and  nick-named  Vide  Poche,  and  ar- 
ranged that  the  packet  should  call  for  us  there. 

The  place  consisted  of  a  few  poor  cottages,  and  two  or 
three  public  houses  ;  the  state  of  whose  larders  certainly 
seemed  to  justify  the  second  designation  of  the  village,  for 
there  was  nothing  to  eat  in  any  of  them.  At  length,  how- 
ever, by  going  back  some  half  a  mile  or  so,  we  found  a  sol- 
itary house  where  ham  and  coffee  were  procurable ;  and 
there  we  tarried  to  await  the  advent  of  the  boat,  which 
would  come  in  sight  from  the  green  before  the  door,  a  long 
way  off. 

It  was  a  neat,  unpretending  village  tavern,  and  we  took 
our  repast  in  a  quaint  little  room  with  a  bed  in  it,  decorated 
with  some  old  oil  paintings,  which  in  their  time  had  proba- 
bly done  duty  in  a  Catholic  chapel  or  monastery.  The  fare 
was  very  good,  and  served  with  great  cleanliness.  The 
house  was  kept  by  a  characteristic  old  couple,  with  whom 
we  had  a  long  talk,  and  who  were  perhaps  a  very  good  sam- 
ple of  that  kind  of  people  in  the  West. 

The  landlord  was  a  dry,  tough,  hard-faced  old  fellow  (not 
so  very  old  either,  for  he  was  but  just  turned  sixty,  I  should 
think),  who  had  been  out  with  the  militia  in  the  last  war 
with  England,  and  had  seen  all  kinds  of  service— except  a 
battle  ;  and  he  had  been  very  near  seeing  that,  he  added  : 
very  near.  He  had  all  his  life  been  restless  and  locomotive; 
with  an  irresistible  desire  for  change  :  and  was  still  the  son 


17*  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

of  his  old  self  :  for  if  he  had  nothing  to  keep  him  at  home, 
he  said  (slightly  jerking  his  hat  and  his  thumb  toward  the 
window  of  the  room  in  which  the  old  lady  sat,  as  we  stood 
talking  in  front  of  the  house),  he  would  clean  up  his  musket 
and  be  off  to  Texas  to-morrow  morning.  He  was  one  of 
the  very  many  descendants  of  Cain  proper  to  this  continent, 
who  seem  destined  from  their  birth  to  serve  as  pioneers  in 
the  great  human  army ;  who  gladly  go  on  from  year  to  year 
extending  its  outposts,  and  leaving  home  after  home  behind 
them  ;  and  die  at  last,  utterly  regardless  of  their  graves  be- 
ing left  thousands  of  miles  behind  by  the  wandering  gener- 
ation who  succeed. 

His  wife  was  a  domesticated,  kind-hearted  old  soul,  who 
had  come  with  him,  "  from  the  queen  city  of  the  world," 
which,  it  seemed,  was  Philadelphia ;  but  had  no  love  for 
this  "Western  country,  and  indeed  had  little  reason  to  bear  it 
any  ;  having  seen  her  children,  one  by  one,  die  here  of  fever, 
in  the  full  prime  and  beauty  of  their  youth.  Her  heart  was 
sore,  she  said,  to  think  of  them  ;  and  to  talk  on  this  theme, 
even  to  strangers,  in  that  blighted  place,  so  far  from  her  old 
home,  eased  it  somewhat,  and  became  a  melancholy  pleasure. 

The  boat  appearing  toward  evening,  we  bade  adieu  to  the 
poor  old  lady  and  her  vagrant  spouse,  and  making  for  the 
nearest  landing-place,  were  soon  on  board  Hie  Messenger 
again,  in  our  old  cabin,  and  steaming  down  the  Mississippi. 

If  the  coming  up  this  river,  slowly  making  head  against 
the  stream,  be  an  irksome  journey,  the  shooting  down  it  with 
the  turbid  current  is  almost  worse  ;  for  then  the  boat,  pro- 
ceeding at  the  rate  of  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  has  to 
force  its  passage  through  a  labyrinth  of  floating  logs,  which, 
in  the  dark,  it  is  often  impossible  to  see  beforehand  or  avoid. 
All  that  night,  the  bell  was  never  silent  for  five  minutes  at  a 
time  ;  and  after  every  ring  the  vessel  reeled  again,  some- 
times beneath  a  single  blow,  sometimes  beneath  a  dozen 
dealt  in  quick  succession,  the  lightest  of  which  seemed  more 
than  enough  to  beat  in  her  frail  keel,  as  though  it  had  been 
pie-crust.  Looking  down  upon  the  filthy  river  after  dark,  it 
seemed  to  be  alive  with  monsters,  as  these  black  masses 
rolled  upon  the  surface,  or  came  starting  up  again,  head  first, 
when  the  boat,  in  plowing  her  way  among  a  shoal  of  such 
obstructions,  drove  a  few  among  them  for  the  moment  under 
water.  Sometimes  the  engines  stopped  during  a  long  inter- 
val, and  then  before  her  and  behind  her,  and  gathering  close 
about  her  on  all  sides,  were   so  many  of  these  ill-favored 


,  AMERICAN  NOTES.  179 

obstacles  that  she  was  fairly  hemmed  in  ;  the  center  ot  a 
floating  island  ;  and  was  constrained  to  pause  until  they 
parted,  somewhere,  as  dark  clouds  will  do  before  the  wind, 
and  opened  by  degrees  a  channel  out. 

In  good  time  next  morning,  however,  we  came  again  in 
sight  of  the  detestable  morass  called  Cairo ;  and  stopping 
there  to  take  in  wood,  lay  alongside  a  barge,  whose  starting 
timbers  scarcely  held  together.  It  was  moored  to  the  bank, 
and  on  its  side  was  painted  "  Coffee  House  ;  "  that  being,  I 
suppose,  the  floating  paradise  to  which  the  people  fly  for 
shelter  when  they  lose  their  houses  for  a  month  or  two 
beneath  the  hideous  waters  of  the  Mississippi.  But  looking 
southward  from  this  point,  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
that  intolerable  river  dragging  its  slimy  length  and  ugly 
freight  abruptly  off  toward  New  Orleans  ;  and,  passing  a 
yellow  line  which  stretched  across  the  current,  were  again 
upon  the  clear  Ohio,  never,  I  trust,  to  see  the  Mississippi 
more,  saving  in  troubled  dreams  and  nightmares.  Leaving 
it  for  the  company  of  its  sparkling  neighbor,  was  like  the 
transition  from  pain  to  ease,  or  the  waking  from  a  horrible 
vision  to  cheerful  realities. 

We  arrived  at  Louisville  on  the  fourth  night,  and  gladly 
availed  ourselves  of  its  excellent  hotel.  Next  day  we  went 
on  in  the  Ben  Franklin,  a  beautiful  mail  steamboat,  and 
reached  Cincinnati  shortly  after  midnight.  Being  by  this 
time  nearly  tired  of  sleeping  upon  shelves,  we  had  remained 
awake  to  go  ashore  straightway  ;  and  groping  a  passage 
across  the  dark  decks  of  other  boats,  and  among  labyrinths 
of  engine-machinery  and  leaking  casks  of  molasses,  we 
reached  the  streets,  knocked  up  the  porter  at  the  hotel  where 
we  had  staid  before,  and  were,  to  our  great  joy,  safely 
housed  soon  afterward. 

We  rested  but  one  day  at  Cincinnati,  and  then  resumed 
our  journey  to  Sandusky.  As  it  comprised  two  varieties  of 
stage-coach  traveling,  which,  with  those  I  have  already 
glanced  at,  comprehend  the  main  characteristic  of  this  mode 
of  transit  in  America,  I  will  take  the  reader  as  our  fellow- 
passenger,  and  pledge  myself  to  perform  the  distance  with 
all  possible  dispatch. 

Our  place  of  destination  in  the  first  instance  is  Columbus. 
It  is  distant  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  Cincin- 
nati, but  there  is  a  macadamized  road  (rare  blessing  !)  the 
whole  way,  and  the  rate  of  traveling  upon  it  is  six  miles  an 
hour. 


iSo  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

We  start  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  a  great  mail- 
coach,  whose  huge  cheeks  are  so  very  ruddy  and  plethoric, 
that  it  appears  to  be  troubled  with  a  tendency  of  blood  to  the 
head.  Dropsical  it  certainly  is,  for  it  will  hold  a  dozen 
passengers  inside.  But,  wonderful  to  add,  it  is  very  clean 
and  bright,  being  nearly  new  ;  and  rattles  through  the  streets 
of  Cincinnati  gayly. 

Our  way  lies  through  a  beautiful  country,  richly  cultivated, 
and  luxuriant  in  its  promise  of  an  abundant  harvest. 
Sometimes  we  pass  a  field  where  the  strong  bristling  stalks 
of  Indian  corn  look  like  a  crop  of  walking-sticks,  and  some- 
times an  inclosure  where  the  green  wheat  is  springing  up 
among  a  labyrinth  of  stumps  ;  the  primitive  worm-fence  is 
universal,  and  an  ugly  thing  it  is  ;  but  the  farms  are  neatly 
kept,  and,  save  for  these  differences,  one  might  be  traveling 
just  now  in  Kent. 

We  often  stop  to  water  at  a  roadside  inn,  which  is  always 
dull  and  silent.  The  coachman  dismounts  and  fills  his 
basket,  and  holds  it  to  the  horses'  heads.  There  is  scarcely 
ever  any  one  to  help  him  :  there  are  seldom  any  loungers 
standing  round  ;  and  never  any  stable-company  with  jokes 
to  crack.  Sometimes,  when  we  have  changed  our  team, 
there  is  a  difficulty  in  starting  again,  arising  out  of  the  prev- 
alent mode  of  breaking  a  young  horse  :  which  is  to  catch 
him,  harness  him  against  his  will,  and  put  him  in  a  stage- 
coach without  further  notice  :  but  we  get  on  somehow  or 
other,  after  a  great  many  kicks  and  a  violent  struggle  ;  and 
jog  on  as  before  again. 

Occasionally,  when  we  stop  to  change,  some  two  or  three 
half-drunken  loafers  will  come  loitering  out  with  their  hands 
in  their  pockets,  or  will  be  seen  kicking  their  heels  in  rock- 
ing-chairs, or  lounging  on  the  window-sill,  or  sitting  on  a  rail 
within  the  colonnade  ;  they  have  not  often  any  thing  to  say 
though,  either  to  us  or  to  each  other,  but  sit  there  idly  star- 
ing at  the  coach  and  horses.  The  landlord  of  the  inn  is 
usually  among  them,  and  seems,  of  all  the  party,  to  be  the 
least  connected  with  the  business  of  the  house.  Indeed,  he 
is  with  reference  to  the  tavern,  what  the  driver  is  in  relation 
to  the  coach  and  passengers :  whatever  happens  in  his 
sphere  of  action,  he  is  quite  indifferent,  and  perfectly  easy 
in  his  mind. 

The  frequent  change  of  coachman  works  no  change  or 
variety  in  the  coachman's  character.  He  is  always  dirty, 
sullen,  and  taciturn.     If  he  be  capable  of  smartness  of  any 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  181 

kind,  moral  or  physical,  he  has  a  faculty  of  concealing  it 
which  is  truly  marvelous.  He  never  speaks  to  you  as  you 
sit  beside  him  on  the  box,  and  if  you  speak  to  him,  he  an- 
swers (if  at  all)  in  monosyllables.  He  points  out  nothing  on 
the  road,  and  seldom  looks  at  any  thing  :  being,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, thoroughly  weary  of  it  and  of  existence  generally. 
As  to  doing  the  honors  of  his  coach,  his  business,  as  I  have 
said,  is  with  the  horses.  The  coach  follows  because  it  is  at- 
tached to  them  and  goes  on  wheels  ;  not  because  you  are  in 
it.  Sometimes,  toward  the  end  of  a  long  stage,  he  suddenly 
breaks  out  into  a  discordant  fragment  of  an  election  song, 
but  his  face  never  sings  along  with  him  :  it  is  only- his  voice, 
and  not  often  that. 

He  always  chews  and  always  spits,  and  never  encumbers 
himself  with  a  pocket  handkerchief.  The  consequences  to 
the  box  passenger,  especially  when  the  wind  blows  toward 
him,  are  not  agreeable. 

Whenever  the  coach  stops,  and  you  can  hear  the  voices  of 
the  inside  passengers  ;  or  whenever  any  bystander  addresses 
them,  or  any  one  among  them  ;  or  they  address  each  other  ; 
you  will  hear  one  phrase  repeated  over  and  over  and  over 
again  to  the  most  extraordinary  extent.  It  is  an  ordinary 
and  unpromising  phrase  enough,  being  neither  more  nor 
less  than  "  Yes,  sir  ;"  but  it  is  adapted  to  every  variety  of 
circumstance,  and  fills  up  every  pause  in  the  conversation. 
Thus: 

The  time  is  one  o'clock  at  noon.  The  scene,  a  place 
where  we  are  to  stay  and  dine,  on  this  journey.  The  coach 
drives  up  to  the  door  of  an  inn.  The  day  is  warm,  and  there 
are  several  idlers  lingering  about  the  tavern,  and  waiting  for 
the  public  dinner.  Among  them,  is  a  stout  gentleman  in  a 
brown  hat,  swinging  himself  to  and  fro  in  a  rocking-chair  on 
the  pavement. 

As  the  coach  stops,  a  gentleman  in  a  straw  hat  looks  out 
of  the  window  : 

Straw  Hat.  (To  the  stout  gentleman  in  the  rocking- 
chair.)     I  reckon  that's  Judge  Jefferson,  ain't  it  ? 

Brown  Hat.  (Still  swinging ;  speaking  very  slowly ; 
and  without  any  emotion  whatever.)     Yes,  sir. 

Straw  Hat.  Warm  weather,  judge. 

Brown  Hat.  Yes,  sir. 

Straw  Hat.     There  was  a  snap  of  cold,  last  week. 

Brown  Hat.     Yes,  sir. 

A  pause.     They  look  at  each  other,  very  seriously. 


,82  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

Straw  Hat.  I'll  calculate  you'll  have  got  through  that 
case  of  the  corporation,  judge,  by  this  time,  now  ? 

Brown  Hat.     Yes,  sir. 

Straw  Hat.     How  did  the  verdict  go,  sir? 

Brown  Hat.     For  the  defendant,  sir. 

Straw  Hat.     (Interrogatively.)     Yes,  sir? 

Brown  Hat.     (Affirmatively.)     Yes,  sir. 

Both.  (Musingly,  as  each  gazes  down  the  street.)  Yes, 
sir. 

Another  pause.  They  look  at  each  other  again,  still  more 
seriously  than  before. 

Brown  Hat.  This  coach  is  rather  behind  its  time  to- 
day, I  guess. 

Straw  Hat.     (Doubtingly.)     Yes,  sir. 

Brown  Hat.  (Looking  at  his  watch.)  Yes,  sir  ;  nigh 
upon  two  hours. 

Straw  Hat.  (Raising  his  eyebrows  in  very  great  sur- 
prise.)    Yes,  sir  ! 

Brown  Hat.  (Decisively,  as  he  puts  up  his  watch.) 
Yes,  sir. 

All  the  other  inside  Passengers.  (Among  them- 
selves.)    Yes,  sir. 

Coachman.     (In  a  very  surly  tone.)     No,  it  ain't. 

Straw  Hat.  (To  the  coachman.)  Well,  I  don't  know, 
sir.  We  were  a  pretty  tall  time  coming  that  last  fifteen  miles. 
That's  a  fact. 

The  coachman  making  no  reply,  and  plainly  declining  to 
enter  into  any  controversy  on  a  subject  so  far  removed  from 
his  sympathies  and  feelings,  another  passenger  says,  "  Yes, 
sir  ;  "  and  the  gentleman  in  the  straw  hat  in  acknowledgment 
of  his  courtesy,  says  "  Yes,  sir,"  to  him,  in  return.  The  straw 
hat  then  inquires  of  the  brown  hat,  whether  that  coach  in 
which  he  (the  straw  hat)  then  sits,  is  not  a  new  one  ?  To 
which  the  brown  hat  again  makes  answer,  "  Yes,  sir." 

Straw  Hat.  I  thought  so.  Pretty  loud  smell  of  varnishr 
sir? 

Brown  Hat.     Yes,  sir. 

All  the  other  inside  Passengers.     Yes,  sir. 

Brown  Hat.     (To  the  company  in  general.)     Yes,  sir. 

The  conversational  powers  of  the  company  having  been  by 
this  time  pretty  heavily  taxed,  the  straw  hat  opens  the  door 
and  gets  out  ;  and  all  the  rest  alight  also.  We  dine  soon 
afterward  with  the  boarders  in  the  house,  and  have  nothing 
to  drink  but  tea  and  coffee.     As  they  are  both  very  bad  and 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  183 

the  water  is  worse,  I  ask  for  brandy  ;  but  it  is  a  temperance 
hotel,  and  spirits  are  not  to  be  had  for  love  or  money.  This 
preposterous  forcing  of  unpleasant  drinks  down  the  reluctant 
throats  of  travelers  is  not  at  all  uncommon  in  America,  but 
I  never  discovered  that  the  scruples  of  such  wincing  land- 
lords induced  them  to  preserve  any  unusually  nice  balance 
between  the  quality  of  their  fare  and  their  scale  of  charges  : 
on  the  contrary,  I  rather  suspected  them  of  diminishing  the 
one  and  exalting  the  other,  by  way  of  recompense  for  the 
loss  of  their  profit  on  the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors.  After  all, 
perhaps  the  plainest  course  for  persons  of  such  tender  con- 
sciences, would  be  a  total  abstinence  from  tavern-keeping. 

Dinner  over,  we  get  into  another  vehicle  which  is  ready 
at  the  door  (for  the  coach  has  been  changed  in  the  interval), 
and  resume  our  journey  ;  which  continues  through  the  same 
kind  of  country  until  evening,  when  we  come  to  the  town 
where  we  are  to  stop  for  tea  and  supper  ;  and  having  deli- 
vered the  mail  bags  at  the  post-office,  ride  through  the  usual 
wide  street,  lined  with  the  usual  stores  and  houses  (the  dra- 
pers always  having  hung  up  at  their  door,  by  way  of  a  sign, 
a  piece  of  bright  red  cloth),  to  the  hotel  where  this  meal  is 
prepared.  There  being  many  boarders  here,  we  sit  down,  a 
large  party,  and  a  very  melancholy  one  as  usual.  But  there 
is  a  buxom  hostess  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and,  opposite,  a 
simple  Welsh  schoolmaster  with  his  wife  and  child  ;  who 
came  here  on  a  speculation  of  greater  promise  than  perform- 
ance, to  teach  the  classics  :  and  they  are  sufficient  subjects 
of  interest  until  the  meal  is  over,  and  another  coach  is  ready. 
In  it  we  go  on  once  more,  lighted  by  a  bright  moon,  until 
midnight  ;  when  we  stop  to  change  the  coach  again,  and  re- 
main for  half  an  hour  or  so  in  a  miserable  room,  with  a 
blurred  lithograph  of  Washington,  over  the  smoky  fire-place, 
and  a  mighty  jug  of  cold  water  on  the  table  :  to  which  refresh- 
ment the  moody  passengers  do  so  apply  themselves  that  they 
would  seem  to  be,  one  and  all,  keen  patients  of  Dr.  Sangrado. 
Among  them  is  a  very  little  boy,  who  chews  tobacco  like  a 
very  big  one  ;  and  a  droning  gentleman,  who  talks  arithmet- 
ically and  statistically  on  all  subjects,  from  poetry  down 
ward  ;  and  who  always  speaks  in  the  same  key,  with  exactly 
the  same  emphasis,  and  with  very  grave  deliberation.  He 
came  outside  just  now,  and  told  me  how  that  the  uncle  of  a 
certain  young  lady  who  had  been  spirited  away  and  married 
by  a  certain  captain,  lived  in  these  parts  ;  and  how  this  uncle 
was  so  valiant  and  ferocious  that  he  shouldn't  wonder  if  he 


1 84  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

were  to  follow  the  said  captain  to  England  "  and  shoot  him 
down  in  the  street  wherever  he  found  him  ;  "  in  the  feasi- 
bility of  which  strong  measure  I,  being  for  the  moment  rather 
prone  to  contradiction  from  feeling  half  asleep  and  very  tired, 
declined  to  acquiesce  :  assuring  him  that,  if  the  uncle  did 
resort  to  it,  or  gratify  any  other  little  whim  of  the  like  nature, 
he  would  find  himself  one  morning  prematurely  throttled  at 
the  Old  Bailey  ;  and  that  he  would  do  well  to  make  his  will 
before  he  went,  as  he  would  certainly  want  it  before  he  had 
been  in  Britain  very  long. 

On  we  go  all  night,  and  by  and  by  the  day  begins  to  break, 
and  presently  the  first  cheerful  rays  of  the  warm  sun  come 
slanting  on  us  brightly.  It  sheds  its  light  upon  a  miserable 
waste  of  sodden  grass,  and  dull  trees,  and  squalid  huts, 
whose  aspect  is  forlorn  and  grievous  in  the  last  degree.  A 
very  desert  in  the  wood,  whose  growth  of  green  is  dank  and 
noxious  like  that  upon  the  top  of  standing  water :  where 
poisonous  fungus  grows  in  the  rare  footprint  on  the  oozy 
ground,  and  sprouts  like  witches'  coral,  from  the  crevices  in 
the  cabin  wall  and  floor ;  it  is  a  hideous  thing  to  lie  upon 
the  very  threshold  of  a  city.  But  it  was  purchased  years 
ago,  and,  as  the  owner  can  not  be  discovered,  the  state  has 
been  unable  to  reclaim  it.  So  there  it  remains,  in  the  midst 
of  cultivation  and  improvement,  like  ground  accursed,  and 
made  obscene  and  rank  by  some  great  crime. 

We  reached  Columbus  shortly  before  seven  o'clock,  and 
staid  there,  to  refresh,  that  day  and  night :  having  excellent 
apartments  in  a  very  large  unfinished  hotel  called  the  Neil 
House,  which  were  richly  fitted  with  the  polished  wood  of 
the  black  walnut,  and  opened  on  a  handsome  portico  and 
stone  veranda,  like  rooms  in  some  Italian  mansion.  The 
town  is  clean  and  pretty,  and  of  course  is  "  going  to  be  " 
much  larger.  It  is  the  seat  of  the  state  legislature  of  Ohio, 
and  lays  claim,  in  consequence,  to  some  consideration  and 
importance. 

There  being  no  stage-coach  next  day,  upon  the  road  we 
wished  to  take,  I  hired  "  an  extra,"  at  a  reasonable  charge, 
to  carry  us  to  Tiffin  ;  a  small  town  from  whence  there  is  a 
railroad  to  Sandusky.  This  extra  was  an  ordinary  four-horse 
stage-coach,  such  as  I  have  described,  changing  horses  and 
drivers,  as  the  stage-coach  would,  but  was  exclusively  our  own 
for  the  journey.  To  insure  our  having  horses  at  the  proper 
stations,  and  being  incommoded  by  no  strangers,  the  pro- 
prietors sent  an  agent  on  the  box,  who  was  to  accompany 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  185 

us  the  whole  way  through  ;  and  thus  attended,  and  bearing 
with  us,  besides,  a  hamper  full  of  savory  cold  meats,  and 
fruit,  and  wine,  we  started  off  again  in  high  spirits,  at  half- 
past  six  o  clock  next  morning,  very  much  delighted  to  be 
by  ourselves,  and  disposed  to  enjoy  even  the  roughest 
journey. 

It  was  well  for  us,  that  we  were  in  this  humor,  for  the 
road  we  went  over  that  day,  was  certainly  enough  to  have 
shaken  tempers  that  were  not  resolutely  at  Set  Fair,  down 
to  some  inches  below  Stormy.  At  one  time  we  were  all  flung 
together  in  a  heap,  at  the  bottom  of  the  coach,  and  at  another 
we  were  crushing  our  heads  against  the  roof.  Now,  one 
side  was  down  deep  in  the  mire,  and  we  were  holding  on  to 
the  other.  Now,  the  coach  was  lying  on  the  tails  of  the  two 
wheelers ;  and  now  it  was  rearing  up  in  the  air,  in  a  frantic 
state,  with  all  four  horses  standing  on  the  top  of  an  insur- 
mountable eminence,  looking  coolly  back  at  it,  as  though 
they  would  say  ?  Unharness  us.  It  can't  be  done."  The 
drivers  on  these  roads,  who  certainly  get  over  the  ground 
in  a  manner  which  is  quite  miraculous,  so  twist  and  turn  the 
team  about  in  forcing  a  passage,  corkscrew  fashion,  through 
the  bogs  and  swamps,  that  it  was  quite  a  common  circum- 
stance on  looking  out  of  the  window,  to  see  the  coachman 
with  the  ends  of  a  pair  of  reins  in  his  hands,  apparently 
driving  nothing,  or  playing  at  horses,  and  the  leaders  staring 
at  one  unexpectedly  from  the  back  of  the  coach,  as  if  they 
had  some  idea  of  getting  up  behind.  A  great  portion  of 
the  way  was  over  what  is  called  a  corduroy  road,  which  is 
made  by  throwing  trunks  of  trees  into  a  marsh,  and 
leaving  them  to  settle  there.  The  very  slightest  of  the 
jolts  with  which  the  ponderous  carriage  fell  from  log  to 
log,  was  enough,  it  seemed,  to  have  dislocated  all  the  bones 
in  the  human  body.  It  would  be  impossible  to  experience 
a  similar  set  of  sensations,  in  any  other  circumstances,  unless 
perhaps  in  attempting  to  go  up  the  top  of  St.  Paul's  in  an 
omnibus.  Never,  never  once,  that  day,  was  the  coach  in 
any  position,  attitude,  or  kind  of  motion  to  which  we  are 
accustomed  in  coaches.  Never  did  it  make  the  smallest 
approach  to  one's  experience  of  the  proceedings  of  any  sort 
of  vehicle  that  goes  on  wheels. 

Still  it  was  a  fine  day,  and  the  temperature  was  delicious, 
and  though  we  had  left  summer  behind  us  in  the  west,  and 
were  fast  leaving  spring,  we  were  moving  toward  Niagara 
and  home.     We  alighted  in  a  pleasant  wood  toward  the 


i86  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

middle  of  the  day,  dined  on  a  fallen  tree,  and,  leaving  out 
best  fragments  with  a  cottager,  and  our  worst  with  the  pigs 
(who  swarm  in  this  part  of  the  country  like  grains  of  sand 
on  the  sea-shore,  to  the  great  comfort  of  our  commissariat 
in  Canada),  we  went  forward  again,  gayly. 

As  night  came  on,  the  track  grew  narrower  and  narrower, 
until  at  last  it  so  lost  itself  among  the  trees  that  the  driver 
seemed  to  find  his  way  by  instinct.  We  had  the  comfort  of 
knowing,  at  least,  that  there  was  no  danger  of  his  falling 
asleep,  for  every  now  and  then  a  wheel  would  strike  against 
an  unseen  stump  with  such  a  jerk,  that  he  was  fain  to  hold  on 
pretty  tight  and  pretty  quick,  to  keep  himself  upon  the  box. 
Nor  was  there  any  reason  to  dread  the  least  danger  from 
furious  driving,  inasmuch  as  over  that  broken  ground  the 
horses  had  enough  to  do  to  walk  ;  as  to  shying,  there  was  no 
room  for  that ;  and  a  herd  of  wild  elephants  could  not  have 
run  away  in  such  a  wood,  with  such  a  coach  at  their  heels. 
So  we  stumbled  along,  quite  satisfied. 

These  stumps  of  trees  are  a  curious  feature  in  American 
traveling.  The  varying  illusions  they  present  to  the  unac- 
customed eye  as  it  grows  dark,  are  quite  astonishing  in  their 
numbe-  and  reality.  Now,  there  is  a  Grecian  urn  erected  in 
the  center  of  a  lonely  field  ;  now  there  is  a  woman  weeping 
at  a  tomb  ;  now  a  very  commonplace  old  gentleman  in  a 
waistcoat,  with  a  thumb  thrust  into  each  arm-hole  of  his 
coat ;  now  a  student  poring  on  a  book  ;  now  a  crouching 
negro  ;  now,  a  horse,  a  dog,  a  cannon,  an  armed  man  ;  a 
hunch-back  throwing  off  his  coat  and  stepping  forth  into  the 
light.  They  were  often  as  entertaining  to  me  as  so  many 
glasses  in  a  magic  lantern,  and  never  took  their  shapes  at  my 
bidding,  but  seemed  to  force  themselves  upon  me,  whether  I 
would  or  no  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  I  sometimes  recognized  in 
them  counterparts  of  figures  once  familiar  to  me  in  pictures 
attached  to  childish  books,  forgotten  long  ago. 

It  soon  became  too  dark,  however,  even  for  this  amuse- 
ment, and  the  trees  were  so  close  together  that  their  dry 
branches  rattled  against  the  coach  on  either  side,  and  obliged 
us  all  to  keep  our  heads  within.  It  lightened  too,  for  three 
whole  hours  ;  each  flash  being  very  bright,  and  blue,  and 
long ;  and  as  the  vivid  streaks  came  darting  in  among  the 
crowded  branches,  and  the  thunder  rolled  gloomily  above 
the  tree  tops,  one  could  scarcely  help  thinking  that  there 
were  better  neighborhoods  at  such  a  time  than  thick  woods 
afforded. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  1S7 

At  length,  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  a  tew 
feeble  lights  appeared  in  the  distance,  and  Upper  Sandusky, 
an  Indian  village,  where  we  were  to  stay  till  morning,  lar 
before  us. 

They  were  gone  to  bed  at  the  log  inn,  which  was  the  only 
house  of  entertainment  in  the  place,  but  soon  answered  to 
our  knocking,  and  got  some  tea  for  us  in  a  sort  of  kitchen  or 
common  room,  tapestried  with  old  newspapers  pasted  against 
the  wall.  The  bed-chamber  to  which  my  wife  and  I  were 
shown,  was  a  large,  low,  ghostly  room  ;  with  a  quantity  of 
withered  branches  on  the  hearth,  and  two  doors  without  any 
fastening,  opposite  to  each  other,  both  opening  on  the  black 
night  and  wild  country,  and  so  contrived,  that  one  of  them 
always  blew  the  other  open  :  a  novelty  in  domestic  archi- 
tecture, which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  before,  and 
which  I  was  somewhat  disconcerted  to  have  forced  on  my 
attention  after  getting  into  bed,  as  I  had  a  considerable  sum 
in  gold  for  our  traveling  expenses  in  my  dressing-case. 
Some  of  the  luggage,  however,  piled  against  the  panels,  soon 
settled  this  difficulty,  and  my  sleep  would  not  have  been 
very  much  affected  that  night,  I  believe,  though  it  had  failed 
to  do  so. 

My  Boston  friend  climbed  up  to  bed,  somewhere  in  the 
roof,  where  another  guest  was  already  snoring  hugely.  But 
being  bitten  beyond  his  power  of  endurance,  he  turned  out 
again,  and  fled  for  shelter  to  the  coach,  which  was  airing 
itself  in  front  of  the  house.  This  was  not  a  very  politic 
step,  as  it  turned  out ;  for  the  pigs  scenting  him,  and  looking 
upon  the  coach  as  a  kind  of  pie  with  some  manner  of  meat 
inside,  grunted  round  it  so  hideously,  that  he  was  afraid  to 
come  out  again,  and  lay  there  shivering,  till  morning.  Nor 
was  it  possible  to  warm  him,  when  he  did  come  out,  by 
means  of  a  glass  of  brandy  :  for  in  Indian  villages,  the  legis- 
lature, with  a  very  good  and  wise  intention,  forbids,  the  sale 
of  spirits  by  tavern  keepers.  The  precaution,  however,  is 
quite  inefficacious,  for  the  Indians  never  fail  to  procure 
liquor  of  a  worse  kind,  at  a  dearer  price,  from  traveling 
peddlers. 

It  is  a  settlement  of  the  Wyandot  Indians  who  inhabit 
this  place  Among  the  company  at  breakfast  was  a  mild 
old  gentleman,  who  had  been  for  many  years  employed  by 
the  United  States  Government  in  conducting  negotiations 
vith  the  Indians,  and  who  had  just  concluded  a  treaty  with 
these  people  by  "which  they  bound  themselves,  in  considers 


i88  AMERICAN   NOTES. 

tion  of  a  certain  annual  sum,  to  remove  next  year  to  some 
land  provided  for  them,  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  a  little 
way  beyond  St.  Louis.  He  gave  me  a  moving  account  of 
their  strong  attachment  to  the  familiar  scenes  of  their  infancy, 
and  in  particular  to  the  burial-places  of  their  kindred,  and 
of  their  great  reluctance  to  leave  them.  He  had  witnessed 
many  such  removals,  and  always  with  pain,  though  he  knew 
that  they  departed  for  their  own  good.  The  question  whether 
this  tribe  should  go  or  stay,  had  been  discussed  among  them 
a  day  or  two  before,  in  a  hut  erected  for  the  purpose,  the 
logs  of  which  still  lay  upon  the  ground  before  the  inn. 
When  the  speaking  was  done,  the  ayes  and  noes  were  ranged 
on  opposite  sides,  and  every  male  adult  voted  in  his  turn. 
The  moment  the  result  was  known,  the  minority  (a  large 
one)  cheerfully  yielded  to  the  rest,  and  withdrew  all  kind  of 
opposition. 

We  met  some  of  these  poor  Indians  afterward,  riding  on 
shaggy  ponies.  They  were  so  like  the  meaner  sort  of  gipsies, 
that  if  I  could  have  seen  any  of  them  in  England,  I  should 
have  concluded,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  they  belonged 
to  that  wandering  and  restless  people. 

Leaving  this  town  directly  after  breakfast,  we  pushed  for- 
ward again,  over  a  rather  worse  road  than  yesterday,  if  possi- 
ble, and  arrived  about  noon  at  Tiffin,  where  we  parted  with 
the  extra.  At  two  o'clock  we  took  the  railroad  ;  the  travel- 
ing on  which  was  very  slow,  its  construction  being  indifferent, 
and  the  ground  wet  and  marshy  ;  and  arrived  at  Sandusky 
in  time  to  dine  that  evening.  We  put  up  at  a  comfortable 
little  hotel  on  the  brink  of  Lake  Erie,  lay  there  that  night, 
and  had  no  choice  but  to  wait  there  next  day,  until  a  steam- 
boat bound  for  Buffalo  appeared.  The  town,  which  was  slug- 
gish and  uninteresting  enough,  was  something  like  the  back 
of  an  English  watering-place  out  of  the  season. 

Our  host,  who  was  very  attentive  and  anxious  to  make  us 
comfortable,  was  a  handsome  middle-aged  man,  who  had 
come  into  this  town  from  New  England,  in  which  part  of  the 
country  he  was  "  raised."  When  I  say  that  he  constantly 
walked  in  and  out  of  the  room  with  his  hat  on  ;  and  stopped 
to  converse  in  the  same  free-and-easy  state  ;  and  lay  down  on 
our  sofa,  and  pulled  his  newspaper  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
read  it  at  his  ease  ;  I  merely  mention  these  traits  as  charac- 
teristic of  the  country  ;  not  at  all  as  being  matter  of  com- 
plaint, or  as  having  been  disagreeable  to  me.  I  should  un- 
doubtedly be  offended  by  such  proceedings  at  home,  because 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  189 

they  are  not  the  custom  ;  and  where  they  are  not,  they  would 
be  impertinences  ;  but  in  America,  the  only  desire  of  a  good- 
natured  fellow  of  this  kind,  is  to  treat  his  guests  hospitably 
and  well ;  and  I  had  no  more  right,  and  I  can  truly  say  no 
more  disposition,  to  measure  his  conduct  by  our  English  rule 
and  standard,  than  I  had  to  quarrel  with  him  for  not  being 
of  the  exact  stature  which  would  qualify  him  for  admission 
into  the  Queen's  Grenadier  Guards.  As  little  inclination  had 
I  to  find  fault  with  a  funny  old  lady  who  was  an  upper  do- 
mestic in  this  establishment,  and  who,  when  she  came  to  wait 
upon  us  at  any  meal,  sat  herself  down  comfortably  in  the  most 
convenient  chair,  and  producing  a  large  pin  to  pick  her  teeth 
with,  remained  performing  that  ceremony,  and  steadfastly  re- 
garding us  meanwhile  with  much  gravity  and  composure  (now 
and  then  pressing  us  to  eat  a  little  more),  until  it  was  time  to 
clear  away.  It  was  enough  for  us,  that  whatever  we  wished 
done  was  done  with  great  civility  and  readiness,  and  a  desire 
to  oblige,  not  only  here,  but  everywhere  else  ;  and  that  ah 
our  wants  were,  in  general,  zealously  anticipated. 

We  were  taking  an  early  dinner  at  this  house,  on  the  day 
after  our  arrival,  which  was  Sunday,  when  a  steamboat  came 
in  sight,  and  presently  touched  at  the  wharf.  As  she  proved 
tc  be  on  her  way  to  Buffalo,  we  hurried  on  board  with  all 
speed,  and  soon  left  Sandusky  far  behind  us. 

She  was  a  large  vessel  of  five  hundred  tons,  and  hand- 
somely fitted  up,  though  with  high-pressure  engines  ;  which 
always  conveyed  that  kind  of  feeling  to  me  which  I  should  be 
likely  to  experience,  I  think,  if  I  had  lodgings  on  the  first- 
floor  of  a  powder-mill.  She  was  laden  with  flour,  some  casks 
of  which  commodity  were  stored  upon  the  deck.  The  captain 
coming  up  to  have  a  little  conversation,  and  to  introduce  a 
friend,  seated  himself  astride  of  one  of  these  barrels,  like  a 
Bacchus  of  private  life  ;  and  pulling  a  great  clasp-knife  out  of 
his  pocket,  began  to  "  whittle  "  it  as  he  talked,  by  paring 
thin  slices  off  the  edges.  And  he  whittled  with  such  industry 
and  hearty  good-will,  that,  but  for  his  being  called  away  very 
soon,  it  must  have  disappeared  bodily,  and  left  nothing  in  its 
place  but  grist  and  shavings. 

After  calling  at  one  or  two  flat  places,  with  low  dams, 
stretching  out  into  the  lake,  whereon  were  stumpy  light- 
houses, windmills  without  sails,  the  whole  looking  like  a 
Dutch  vignette,  we  came  at  midnight  to  Cleveland,  where  we 
lay  all  night,  and  until  nine  o'clock  next  morning. 

I  entertained  quite  a  curiosity  in  reference  to  this  place, 


19°  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

for  having  seen  at  Sandusky  a  specimen  of  its  literature  in 
the  shape  of  a  newspaper,  which  was  very  strong  indeed  upon 
the  subject  of  Lord  Ashburton's  recent  arrival  at  Washington, 
to  adjust  the  points  in  dispute  between  the  United  States 
Government  and  Great  Britain  ;  informing  its  readers  that  as 
America  had  "  whipped  "  England  in  her  infancy,  and 
whipped  her  again  in  her  youth,  so  it  was  clearly  necessary 
that  she  must  whip  her  once  again  in  her  maturity  ;  and 
pledging  its  credit  to  all  True  Americans,  that  if  Mr.  Webster 
did  his  duty  in  the  approaching  negotiations,  and  sent  the 
English  lord  home  again  in  double  quick  time,  they  should, 
within  two  years,  sing  '  Yankee  Doodle  in  Hyde  Park,  and 
Hail  Columbia  in  the  scarlet  courts  of  Westminster  !  "  I 
found  it  a  pretty  town,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  beholding 
the  outside  of  the  office  of  the  journal  from  which  I  have  just 
quoted.  I  did  not  enjoy  the  delight  of  seeing  the  wit  who 
indited  the  paragraph  in  question,  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  is 
a  prodigious  man  in  his  way,  and  held  in  high  repute  by  a 
select  circle. 

There  was  a  gentleman  on  board,  to  whom,  as  I  uninten- 
tionally learned  through  the  thin  partition  which  divided 
our  state-room  from  the  cabin  in  which  he  and  his  wife  con- 
versed together,  I  was  unwittingly  the  occasion  of  very  great 
uneasiness.  I  don't  know  why  or  wherefore,  but  I  appeared 
to  run  in  his  mind  perpetually,  and  to  dissatisfy  him  very 
much.  First  of  all  I  heard  him  say  ;  and  the  most  ludicrous 
part  of  the  business  was,  that  he  said  it  in  my  very  ear,  and 
could  not  have  communicated  more  directly  with  me,  if  he 
had  leaned  upon  my  shoulder  and  whispered  me  :  Boz  is 
on  board  still,  my  dear."  After  a  considerable  pause,  he 
added,  complainingly,  "  Boz  keeps  himself  very  close  ;  " 
which  was  true  enough,  fori  was  not  very  well,  and  was  lying 
down,  with  a  book.  I  thought  he  had  done  with  me  after 
this,  but  I  was  deceived  ;  for  a  long  interval  having  elapsed 
during  which  I  imagine  him  to  have  been  turning  restlessly 
from  side  to  side,  and  trying  to  go  to  sleep,  he  broke  out 
again,  with  "  I  suppose  that  Boz  will  be  writing  a  book  by 
and  by,  and  putting  all  our  names  in  it  !  "  at  which  imagin- 
ary consequence  of  being  on  board  a  boat  with  Boz  he 
groaned  and  became  silent. 

We  called  at  the  town  of  Erie,  at  eight  o'clock  that  night, 
and  lay  there  an  hour.  Between  five  and  six  next  morning, 
we  arrived  at  Buffalo,  where  we  breakfasted  ;  and  being  too 
near  the  great  falls  to  wait  patiently  anywhere  else,  we  set 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  191 

off  by  the   train,  the    same  morning  at  nine    o'clock,   to 
Niagara. 

It  was  a  miserable  day  ;  chilly  and  raw  ;  a  damp  mist 
falling,  and  the  trees  in  that  northern  region  quite  bare  and 
wintry.  Whenever  the  train  halted,  I  listened  for  the  roar  ; 
and  was  constantly  straining  my  eyes  in  that  direction  where 
I  knew  the  falls  must  be,  from  seeing  the  river  rolling  on 
toward  them,  every  moment  expecting  to  behold  the  spray. 
Within  a  few  minutes  of  our  stopping,  not  before,  I  saw  two 
great  white  clouds  rising  up  slowly  and  majestically  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth.  That  was  all.  At  length  we  alighted  ; 
and  then  for  the  first  time,  I  heard  the  mighty  rush  of  water, 
and  felt  the  ground  tremble  underneath  my  feet. 

The  bank  is  very  steep,  and  was  slippery  with  rain,  and 
half-melted  ice.  I  hardly  know  how  I  got  down,  but  I  was 
soon  at  the  bottom,  and  climbing,  with  two  English  officers 
who  were  crossing  and  had  joined  me,  over  some  broken 
rocks,  deafened  by  the  noise,  half  blinded  by  the  spray,  and 
wet  to  the  skin.  We  were  at  the  foot  of  the  American  Fall. 
I  could  see  an  immense  torrent  of  water  tearing  headlong 
down  from  some  great  height,  but  had  no  idea  of  shape  or 
situation,  or  any  thing  but  vague  immensity. 

When  we  were  seated  in  the  little  ferry-boat,  and  were 
crossing  the  swollen  river  immediately  before  both  cataracts, 
I  began  to  see  what  it  was  ;  but  I  was  in  a  manner  stunned, 
and  unable  to  comprehend  the  vastness  of  the  scene.  It  was 
not  until  I  came  on  Table  Rock,  and  looked — great  heaven, 
on  what  a  fall  of  bright-green  water  ! — that  it  came  upon  me 
in  its  full  might  and  majesty. 

Then,  when  I  felt  how  near  to  my  Creator  I  was  standing, 
the  first  effect,  and  the  enduring  one — instant  and  lasting — 
of  the  tremendous  spectacle,  was  peace.  Peace  of  mind, 
tranquillity,  calm  recollections  of  the  dead,  great  thoughts  of 
eternal  rest  and  happiness  :  nothing  of  gloom  or  terror. 
Niagara  was  at  once  stamped  upon  my  heart,  an  image  of 
beauty  ;  to  remain  there,  changeless  and  indelible,  until  its 
pulses  ceased  to  beat,  forever. 

Oh,  how  the  strife  and  trouble  of  daily  life  receded  from 
my  view,  and  lessened  in  the  distance,  during  the  ten  mem- 
orable days  we  passed  on  that  enchanted  ground  !  What 
voices  spoke  from  out  the  thundering  water  ;  what  faces, 
faded  from  the  earth,  looked  out  upon  me  from  its  gleaming 
depths  ;  what  heavenly  promise  glistened  in  those  angels' 
tears,  the  drops  of    many  hues,  that  showered  around,    and 


i92  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

twined  themselves  about  the  gorgeous  arches  which  the 
changing  rainbows  made  ! 

I  never  stirred  in  all  that  time  from  the  Canadian  side, 
whither  I  had  gone  at  first.  I  never  crossed  the  river  again  ; 
for  I  knew  there  were  people  on  the  other  shore,  and  in  such 
a  place  it  is  natural  to  shun  strange  company.  To  wander  to 
and  fro  all  day,  and  seethe  cataracts  from  all  points  of  view; 
to  stand  upon  the  edge  of  the  great  Horseshoe  Fall,  marking 
the  hurried  water  gathering  strength  as  it  approached  the 
verge,  yet  seeming,  too,  to  pause  before  it  shot  into  the  gulf 
below  ;  to  gaze  from  the  river's  level  up  at  the  torrent  as  it 
came  streaming  down  ;  to  climb  the  neighboring  heights  and 
watch  it  through  the  trees,  and  see  the  wreathing  water  in 
the  rapids  hurrying  on  to  take  its  fearful  plunge  ;  to  linger 
in  the  shadow  of  the  solemn  rocks  three  miles  below  ;  watch- 
ing the  river,  as,  stirred  by  no  visible  cause,  it  heaved  and 
eddied  and  awoke  the  echoes,  being  troubled  yet,  far  down 
beneath  the  surface,  by  its  giant  leap  ;  to  have  Niagara  be- 
fore me,  lighted  by  the  sun  and  by  the  moon,  red  in  the 
day's  decline,  and  gray  as  evening  slowly  fell  upon  it ;  to 
look  upon  it  every  day,  and  wake  up  in  the  night  and  hear 
its  ceaseless  voice  :  this  was  enough. 

I  think  in  every  quiet  season  now,  still  do  these  waters 
roll  and  leap,  and  roar  and  tumble,  all  day  long  ;  still  are 
the  rainbows  spanning  them,  a  hundred  feet  below.  Still, 
when  the  sun  is  on  them,  do  they  shine  and  glow  like  molten 
gold.  Still,  when  the  day  is  gloomy,  do  they  fall  like  snow, 
or  seem  to  crumble  away  like  the  front  of  a  great  chalk  cliff, 
or  roll  down  the  rock  like  dense  white  smoke.  But  always 
does  the  mighty  stream  appear  to  die  as  it  comes  down,  and 
always  from  its  unfathomable  grave  arises  that  tremendous 
ghost  of  spray  and  mist  which  is  never  laid  :  which  has 
haunted  this  place  with  the  same  dread  solemnity  since  dark- 
ness brooded  on  the  deep,  and  that  first  flood  before  the 
deluge — light — came  rushing  on  creation  at  the  word  of 
God. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  *93 


CHAPTER  XV. 

kingston  ;  montreal  ;  quebec  ; 
st.  John's. — in  the  united  states  again  ;  Lebanon  ; 
the  shaker  village  ;  west  point. 

I  wish  to  abstain  from  instituting  any  comparison,  or 
drawing  any  parallel  whatever,  between  the  social  features  of 
the  United  States  and  those  of  the  British  Possessions  in 
Canada.  For  this  reason,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  very 
brief  account  of  our  journeyings  in  the  latter  territory. 

But  before  I  leave  Niagara,  I  must  advert  to  one  dis- 
gusting circumstance  which  can  hardly  have  escaped  the 
observation  of  any  decent  traveler  who  has  visited  the  falls. 

On  Table  Rock  there  is  a  cottage  belonging  to  a  guide, 
where  little  relics  of  the  place  are  sold,  and  where  visitors 
register  their  names  in  a  book  kept  for  the  purpose.  On  the 
wall  of  the  room  in  which  a  great  many  of  these  volumes 
are  preserved,  the  following  request  is  posted  :  "  Visitors 
will  please  hot  copy  nor  extract  the  remarks  and  poetical 
effusions  from  the  registers  and  albums  kept  here." 

But  for  this  intimation,  I  should  have  let  them  lie  upon 
the  tables  on  which  they  were  strew.,  with  careful  negli- 
gence, like  books  in  a  drawing-room  :  being  quite  satisfied 
with  the  stupendous  silliness  of  certain  stanzas  with  an  anti- 
climax at  the  end  of  each,  which  were  framed  and  hung  up 
on  the  wall.  Curious,  however,  after  reading  this  announce- 
ment, to  see  what  kind  of  morsels  were  so  carefully  pre- 
served, I  turned  a  few  leaves,  and  found  them  scrawled  all 
over  with  the  vilest  and  the  filthiest  ribaldry  that  ever  hu- 
man hogs  delighted  in. 

It  is  humiliating  enough  to  know  that  there  are  among 
men,  brutes  so  obscene  and  worthless,  that  they  can  delight 
in  laying  their  miserable  profanations  upon  the  very  steps  of 
Nature's  greatest  altar.  But  that  these  should  be  hoarded  up 
for  the  delight  of  their  fellow-swine,  and  kept  in  a  public 
place  where  any  eyes  may  see  them,  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
English  language  in  which  they  are  written. (though  I  hope 
few  of  these  entries  have  been  made  by  Englishmen),  and  a 
reproach  to  the   English  side,  on  which  they  are  preserved. 

The  quarters  of  our  soldiers  at  Niagara  are  finely  and 
airily  situated.  Some  of  them  are  large  detached  houses  on 
the  plain  above  the  Falls,  which  were  originally  designed  for 


194  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

hotels  ;  and  in  the  evening  time,  when  the  women  and  chil- 
dren were  leaning  over  the  balconies  watching  the  men  as 
they  played  at  ball  and  other  games  upon  the  grass  before 
the  door,  they  often  presented  a  little  picture  of  cheerfulness 
and  animation  which  made  it  quite  a  pleasure  to  pass  that 
way. 

At  any  garrisoned  point  where  the  line  of  demarkation 
between  one  country  and  another  is  so  very  narrow  as  at 
Niagara,  desertion  from  the  ranks  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  of 
frequent  occurrence  :  and  it  may  be  reasonably  supposed  that 
when  the  soldiers  entertain  the  wildest  and  maddest  hopes  of 
the  fortune  and  independence  that  await  them  on  the  other 
side,  the  impulse  to  play  traitor,  which  such  a  place  suggests 
to  dishonest  minds,  is  not  weakened.  But  it  very  rarely 
happens  that  the  men  who  do  desert  are  happy  or  contented 
afterward  ;  and  many  instances  have  been  known  in  which 
they  have  confessed  their  grievous  disappointment,  and 
their  earnest  desire  to  return  to  their  old  service  if  they 
could  but  be  assured  of  pardon,  or  lenient  treatment. 
Many  of  their  comrades,  notwithstanding,  do  the  like, 
from  time  to  time  ;  and  instances  of  loss  of  life  in  the  effort 
to  cross  the  river  with  this  object,  are  far  from  being  un- 
common. Several  men  were  drowned  in  the  attempt  to 
swim  across,  not  long  ago  ;  and  one,  who  had  the  madness 
to  trust  himself  upon  a  table  as  a  raft,  was  swept  down  to 
the  whirlpool,  where  his  mangled  body  eddied  round  and 
round  some  days. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  noise  of  the  Falls  is  very 
much  exaggerated  ;  and  this  will  appear  the  more  probable 
when  the  depth  of  the  great  basin  in  which  the  water  is  re- 
ceived is  taken  into  account.  At  no  time  during  our  stay 
there  was  the  wind  at  all  high  or  boisterous,  but  we  never 
heard  them  three  miles  off,  even  at  the  very  quiet  time  of 
sunset,  though  we  often  tried. 

Queenston,  at  which  place  the  steamboats  start  for  To- 
ronto (or,  I  should  rather  say,  at  which  place  they  call,  for 
their  wharf  is  at  Lewiston,  on  the  opposite  shore),  is  situated 
in  a  delicious  valley,  through  which  the  Niagara  River,  in 
color  a  very  deep  green,  pursues  its  course.  It  is  ap- 
proached by  a  road  that  takes  its  winding  way  among  the 
heights  by  which  the  town  is  sheltered  ;  and  seen  from  this 
point  is  extremely  beautiful  and  picturesque.  On  the  most 
conspicuous  of  these  heights  stood  a  monument  erected  by 
the  provincial  legislature  in  memory  of  General  Brock,  who 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  195 

was  slain  in  a  battle  with  the  American  forces,  after  having 
won  the  victory.  Some  vagabond,  supposed  to  be  a  fellow 
of  the  name  of  Lett,  who  is  now,  or  who  lately  was,  in  prison 
as  a  felon,  blew  up  this  monument  two  years  ago,  and  it  is 
now  a  melancholy  ruin,  with  a  long  fragment  of  iron  railing 
hanging  dejectedly  from  its  top,  and  waving  to  and  fro  like 
a  wild  ivy  branch  or  broken  vine  stem.  It  is  of  much 
higher  importance  than  it  may  seem  that  this  statue  should 
be  repaired  at  the  public  cost,  as  it  ought  to  have  been  long 
ago.  Firstly,  because  it  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  England 
to  allow  a  memorial  raised  m  honor  of  one  of  her  defenders 
to  remain  in  this  condition,  on  the  very  spot  where  he  died. 
Secondly,  because  the  sight  of  it  in  its  present  state,  and 
the  recollection  of  the  unpunished  outrage  which  brought  it 
to  this  pass,  is  not  very  likely  to  soothe  down  border  feelings 
among  English  subjects  here,  or  compose  their  border 
quarrels  and  dislikes. 

I  was  standing  on  the  wharf  at  this  place,  watching  the 
passengers  embarking  in  a  steamboat  which  preceded  that 
whose  coming  we  awaited,  and  participating  in  the  anxiety 
with  which  a  sergeant's  wife  was  collecting  her  few  goods 
together — keeping  one  distracted  eye  hard  upon  the  porters, 
who  were  hurrying  them  on  board,  and  the  other  on  a  hoop- 
less  washing-tub  for  which,  as  being  the  most  utterly  worth- 
less of  all  her  movables,  she  seemed  to  entertain  particular 
affection — when  three  or  four  soldiers  with  a  recruit  came 
up  and  went  on  board. 

The  recruit  was  a  likely  young  fellow  enough,  strongly 
built  and  well  made,  but  by  no  means  sober  ;  indeed,  he 
had  all  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  been  more  or  less  drunk 
for  some  days.  He  carried  a  small  bundle  over  his  shoul- 
der, slung  at  the  end  of  a  walking-stick,  and  had  a  short 
pipe  in  his  mouth.  He  was  as  dusty  and  dirty  as  recruits 
usually  are,  and  his  shoes  betokened  that  he  had  traveled  on 
foot  some  distance,  but  he  was  in  a  very  jocose  state,  and 
shook  hands  with  this  soldier,  and  clapped  that  one  on  the 
back,  and  talked  and  laughed  continually  like  a  roaring  idle 
dog  as  he  was. 

The  soldiers  rather  laughed  at  this  blade  than  with  him, 
seeming  to  say,  as  they  stood  straightening  their  canes  in 
their  hands,  and  looking  coolly  at  him  over  their  glazed 
stocks,  "  Go  on,  my  boy,  while  you  may  !  you'll  know  better 
by  and  by,"  when  suddenly  the  novice,  who  had  been  back- 
ing toward  the  gangway  in  his  noisy  merriment^  fell  over- 


i96  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

board  before  their  eyes,  and  splashed  heavily  down  into  the 
river  between  the  vessel  and  the  dock. 

I  never  saw  such  a  good  thing  as  the  change  that  came 
over  these  soldiers  in  an  instant.  Almost  before  the  man 
was  down,  their  professional  manner,  their  stiffness  and  cgki- 
straint,  were  gone,  and  they  were  filled  with  the  most  violent 
energy.  In  less  time  than  is  required  to  tell  it,  they  had 
him  out  again,  feet  first,  with  the  tails  of  his  coat  flapping 
over  his  eyes,  every  thing  about  him  hanging  the  wrong 
way,  and  the  water  streaming  off  at  every  thread  in  his 
threadbare  dress.  But  the  moment  they  set  him  upright, 
and  found  that  he  was  none  the  worse,  they  were  soldiers 
again,  looking  over  their  glazed  stocks  more  composedly 
than  ever. 

The  half-sobered  recruit  glanced  round  for  a  moment,  as 
if  his  first  impulse  were  to  express  some  gratitude  for  his 
preservation,  but  seeing  them  with  this  air  of  total  uncon- 
cern, and  having  his  wet  pipe  presented  to  him  with  an  oath 
by  the  soldier  who  had  been  by  far  the  most  anxious  of  the 
party,  he  stuck  it  in  his  mouth,  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
moist  pockets,  and  without  even  shaking  the  water  off  his 
clothes,  walked  on  board  whistling  ;  not  to  say  as  if  nothing 
had  happened,  but  as  if  he  had  meant  to  do  it,  and  it  had 
been  a  perfect  success. 

Our  steamboat  came  up  directly  this  had  left  the  wharf, 
and  soon  bore  us  to  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara  ;  where  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  of  America  fluttered  on  one  side  and  the 
Union  Jack  of  England  on  the  other  ;  and  so  narrow  is  the 
space  between  them  that  the  sentinels  in  each  fort  can  often 
hear  the  watchword  of  the  other  country  given.  Thence  we 
emerged  on  Lake  Ontario,  an  inland  sea  ;  and  by  half-past 
six  were  in  Toronto. 

The  country  round  this  town  being  very  flat,  is  bare  of 
scenic  interest  ;  but  the  town  itself  is  full  of  life  and  motion, 
oustle,  business,  and  improvement.  The  streets  are  well 
paved,  and  lighted  with  gas  ;  the  houses  are  large  and  good  ; 
the  shops  excellent.  Many  of  them  have  a  display  of  goods 
in  their  windows,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  thriving  country 
towns  in  England  ;  and  there  are  some  which  would  do  no 
discredit  to  the  metropolis  itself.  There  is  a  good  stone 
prison  here  ;  and  there  are,  besides,  a  handsome  church,  a 
court-house,  public  offices,  many  commodious  private  resi- 
dences, and  a  government  observatory  for  noting  and 
recording    the    magnetic    variations.     In    the    College  of 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  r97 

Upper  Canada,  which  is  one  of  the  public  establishments 
of  the  city,  a  sound  education  in  every  department  ot 
polite  learning  can  be  had,  at  a  very  moderate  expense  ; 
the  annual  charge  for  the  instruction  of  each  pupil,  not 
exceeding  nine  pounds  sterling.  It  has  pretty  good  en- 
dowments in  the  way  of  land,  and  is  a  valuable  and  useful 
institution. 

The  first  stone  of  a  new  college  had  been  laid  but  a  few 
days  berore,  by  the  governor-general.  It  will  be  a  hand- 
some spacious  edifice,  approached  by  a  long  avenue,  which 
is  already  planted  and  made  available  as  a  public  walk. 
The  town  is  well  adapted  for  wholesome  exercise  at  all  sea- 
sons, for  the  footways  in  the  thoroughfares  which  lie  beyond 
the  principal  street,  are  planked  like  floors,  and  kept  in  very 
good  and  clean  repair. 

It  is  a  matter  of  deep  regret  that  political  differences 
should  have  run  high  in  this  place,  and  led  to  most  discred- 
'\ab\e  and  disgraceful  results.  It  is  not  long  since  guns 
were  discharged  from  a  window  in  this  town  at  the  success- 
ful candidates  in  an  election,  and  the  coachman  of  one  of 
them  was  actually  shot  in  the  body,  though  not  dangerously 
wounded.  But  one  man  was  killed  on  the  same  occasion  ; 
and  from  the  very  window  whence  he  received  his  death,  the 
very  flag  which  shielded  his  murderer  (not  only  in  the  com- 
mission of  his  crime,  but  from  its  consequences),  was  dis- 
played again  on  the  occasion  of  the  public  ceremony  per- 
formed by  the  governor-general,  to  which  I  have  just 
adverted.  Of  all  the  colors  in  the  rainbow,  there  is  but  one 
which  could  be  so  employed  ;  I  need  not  say  that  flag  was 
orange. 

The  time  of  leaving  Toronto  for  Kingston  is  noon.  By 
eight  o'clock  next  morning,  the  traveler  is  at  the  end  of  his 
journey,  which  is  performed  by  steamboat  upon  Lake  On- 
tario, calling  at  Port  Hope  and  Coburg,  the  latter  a  cheerful 
thriving  little  town.  Vast  quantities  of  flour  form  the  chief 
item  in  the  freight  of  these  vessels.  We  had  no  fewer  than 
one  thousand  and  eighty  barrels  on  board,  between  Coburg 
and  Kingston. 

The  latter  place,  which  is  now  the  seat  of  government  in 
Canada,  is  a  very  poor  town,  rendered  still  poorer  in  the 
appearance  of  its  market-place  by  the  ravages  of  a  recent 
fire.  Indeed,  it  i$ay  be  said  of  Kingston,  that  one-half  of 
it  appears  to  be  burned  down,  and  the  other  half  not  to  be 
built  up.     The  Government  House  is  neither  elegant    nor 


198  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

commodious,  yet  it  is  almost  the  only  house  of  any  import- 
ance  in  the  neighborhood. 

There  is  an  admirable  jail  here,  well  and  wisely  gorerned, 
and  excellently  regulated,  in  every  respect.  The  men  were 
employed  as  shoemakers,  ropemakers,  blacksmiths,  tailors, 
carpenters,  and  stone-cutters  ;  and  in  building  a  new  prison, 
which  was  pretty  far  advanced  toward  completion.  The 
female  prisoners  were  occupied  in  needlework.  Among  them 
was  a  beautiful  girl  of  twenty,  who  had  been  there  nearly 
three  years.  She  acted  as  bearer  of  secret  dispatches  for 
the  self-styled  patriots  on  Navy  Island,  during  the  Cana- 
dian Insurrection  ;  sometimes  dressing  as  a  girl,  and  carry- 
ing them  in  her  stays  ;  sometimes  attiring  herself  as  a  boy, 
and  secreting  them  in  the  lining  of  her  hat.  In  the  latter 
character  she  always  rode  as  a  boy  would,  which  was  nothing 
to  her,  for  she  could  govern  any  horse  that  any  man  could 
ride,  and  could  drive  a  four-in-hand  with  the  best  whip  in 
those  parts.  Setting  forth  on  one  of  her  patriotic  missions, 
she  appropriated  to  herself  the  first  horse  she  could  lay  her 
hands  on  ;  and  this  offense  had  brought  her  where  I  saw  her. 
She  had  quite  a  lovely  face,  though,  as  the  reader  may  sup- 
pose from  this  sketch  of  her  history,  there  was  a  lurking 
devil  in  her  bright  eye,  which  looked  out  pretty  sharply  from 
between  her  prison  bars. 

There  is  a  bomb-proof  fort  here  of  great  strength,  which 
occupies  a  bold  position,  and  is  capable,  doubtless,  of  doing 
good  service ;  though  the  town  is  much  too  close  upon  the 
frontier  to  be  long  held,  I  should  imagine,  for  its  present  pur- 
poses in  troubled  times.  There  is  also  a  small  navy-yard, 
where  a  couple  of  government  steamboats  were  building,  and 
getting  on  vigorously. 

We  left  Kingston  for  Montreal  on  the  tenth  of  May,  at 
half-past  nine  in  the  morning,,  and  proceeded  in  a  steamboat 
down  the  St.  Lawrence  River.  The  beauty  of  this  noble 
stream  at  almost  any  point,  but  especially  in  the  commence- 
ment of  this  journey  when  it  winds  its  way  among  the  Thou- 
sand Islands,  can  hardly  be  imagined.  The  number  and 
constant  succession  of  these  islands,  all  green  and  richly 
wooded  ;  their  fluctuating  sizes,  some  so  large  that  for  half 
an  hour  together  one  among  them  will  appear  as  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river,  and  some  so  small  that  they  are  mere  dim- 
ples on  its  broad  bosom  ;  their  infinite  variety  of  shapes  ;  and 
the  numberless  combinations  of  beautiful  forms  which  the 
trees  growing  on  them  present ;  all  form  a  picture  fraught 
with  uncommon  interest  and  pleasure. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  199 

In  the  afternoon  we  shot  down  some  rapids  where  the 
river  boiled  and  bubbled  strangely,  and  where  the  force  and 
headlong  violence  of  the  current  were  tremendous.  At  seven 
o'clock  we  reached  Dickenson's  Landing,  whence  travelers 
proceed  for  two  or  three  hours  by  stage  coach  ;  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  river  being  rendered  so  dangerous  and  difficult  in 
the  interval,  by  rapids,  that  steamboats  do  not  make  the  pas- 
sage. The  number  and  length  of  those  portages,  over  which 
the  roads  are  bad,  and  the  traveling  slow,  render  the  way  be- 
tween the  towns  of  Montreal  and  Kingston,  somewhat  tedious. 

Our  course  lay  over  a  wide,  uninclosed  tract  of  country  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  river  side,  whence  the  bright  warn- 
ing lights  on  the  dangerous  parts  of  the  St.  Lawrence  shone 
vividly.  The  night  was  dark  and  raw,  and  the  way  dreary 
enough.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  we  reached  the 
wharf  where  the  next  steamboat  lay  ;  and  went  on  board,  and 
to  bed. 

She  lay  there  all  night,  and  started  as  soon  as  it  was  day. 
The  morning  was  ushered  in  by  a  violent  thunderstorm,  and 
was  very  wet,  but  gradually  improved  and  brightened  up. 
Going  on  deck  after  breakfast,  I  was  amazed  to  see  floating 
down  with  the  stream  a  most  gigantic  raft,  with  some  thirty 
or  forty  wooden  houses  upon  it,  and  at  least  as  many  flag- 
masts,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  nautical  street.  I  saw  many 
of  these  rafts  afterward,  but  never  one  so  large.  All  the 
timber,  or  "  lumber,"  as  it  is  called  in  America,  which  is 
brought  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  is  floated  down  in  this  man- 
ner. When  the  raft  reaches  its  place  of  destination,  it  is 
broken  up  ;  the  materials  are  sold  ;  and  the  boatmen  return 
for  more. 

At  eight  we  landed  again,  and  traveled  by  a  stage-coach 
for  four  hours  through  a  pleasant  and  well-cultivated  country, 
perfectly  French  in  every  respect :  in  the  appearance  of  the 
cottages  ;  the  air,  language,  and  dress  of  the  peasantry  ;  the 
sign-boards  on  the  shops  and  taverns  ;  and  the  Virgin's 
shrines,  and  crosses,  by  the  wayside.  Nearly  every  common 
laborer  and  boy,  though  he  had  no  shoes  on  his  feet,  wore 
round  his  waist  a  sash  of  some  bright  color  ;  generally  red  ; 
and  the  women,  who  were  working  in  the  fields  and  gardens, 
and  doing  all  kinds  of  husbandry,  wore,  one  and  all,  great 
flat  straw  hats  with  most  capacious  brims.  There  were 
Catholic  priests*and  Sisters  of  Charity  in  the  village  streets  ; 
and  images  of  the  Saviour  at  the  corners  of  cross-roads,  and 
in  other  public  places. 


200  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

At  noon  we  went  on  board  another  steamboat,  and  reai,  ,ied 
the  village  of  Lachine,  nine  miles  from  Montreal,  by  tbree 
o'clock.     There,  we  left  the  river,  and  went  on  by  land. 

Montreal  is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  margin  of  the  St. 
^Lawrence,  and  is  backed  by  some  bold  heights,  about  which 
there  are  charming  rides  and  drives.  The  streets  are  gener- 
ally narrow  and  irregular,  as  in  most  French  towns  of  any 
age  ;  but  in  the  more  modern  parts  of  the  city,  they  are  wide 
and  airy.  They  display  a  great  variety  of  very  good  shops  ; 
and  both  in  the  town  and  suburbs  there  are  many  excellent 
private  dwellings.  The  granite  quays  are  remarkable  for 
their  beauty,  solidity,  and  strength. 

There  is  a  very  large  Catholic  cathedral  here,  recently 
erected  :  with  two  tall  spires,  of  which  one  is  yet  unfinished. 
In  the  open  space  in  front  of  this  edifice  stands  a  solitary, 
grim-looking,  square  brick  tower,  which  has  a  quaint  and 
remarkable  appearance,  and  which  the  wiseacres  of  the  place 
have  consequently  determined  to  pull  down  immediately. 
The  Government  House  is  very  superior  to  that  at  King- 
ston, and  the  town  is  full  of  life  and  bustle.  In  one  of  the 
suburbs  is  a  plank  road — not  footpath — five  or  six  miles 
long,  and  a  famous  road  it  is  too.  All  the  rides  in  the 
vicinity  were  made  doubly  interesting  by  the  bursting 
out  of  spring,  which  is  here  so  rapid  that  it  is  but  a  day's 
leap  from  barren  winter  to  the  blooming  youth  of  summer. 

The  steamboats  to  Quebec  perform  the  journey  in  the 
night  :  that  is  to  say,  they  leave  Montreal  at  six  in  the  even- 
ing, and  arrive  at  Quebec  at  six  next  morning.  We  made 
this  excursion  during  our  stay  in  Montreal  (which  exceeded 
a  fortnight),  and  we  were  charmed  by  its  interest  and 
beauty. 

The  impression  made  upon  the  visitor  by  this  Gibraltar  of 
America  ;  its  giddy  heights  ;  its  citadel  suspended,  as  it 
were,  in  the  air  ;  its  picturesque  steep  streets  and  frowning 
gate-ways  ;  and  the  splendid  views  which  burst  upon  the 
eye  at  every  turn — is  at  once  unique  and  lasting. 

It  is  a  place  not  to  be  forgotten  or  mixed  up  in  the  mind 
with  other  places,  or  altered  for  a  moment  in  the  crowd  of 
scenes  a  traveler  can  recall.  Apart  from  the  realities  of 
this  most  picturesque  city,  there  are  associations  clustering 
about  it  which  would  make  a  desert  rich  in  interest.  The 
dangerous  precipice  along  whose  rocky  front  Wolfe  and  his 
brave  companions  climbed  to  glory  ;  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
where  he  received  his  mortal  wound  ;  the  fortress  so  chival- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  201 

rously  defended  by  Montcalm  ;  and  his  soldier's  grave,  dug 
for  him  while  yet  alive,  by  the  bursting  of  a  shell ;  are  not 
the  least  among  them,  or  among  the  gallant  incidents  of  his- 
tory. That  is  a  noble  monument  too,  and  worthy  of  two 
great  nations,  which  perpetuates  the  memory  of  both  brave 
generals,  and  on  which  their  names  are  jointly  written. 

The  city  is  rich  in  public  institutions  and  in  Catholic 
churches  and  charities  ;  but  it  is  mainly  in  the  prospect  from 
the  site  of  the  Old  Government  House,  and  from  the  citadel, 
that  its  surpassing  beauty  lies.  The  exquisite  expanse  of 
country,  rich  in  field  and  forest,  mountain-height  and  water, 
which  lies  stretched  out  before  the  view,  with  miles  of  Cana- 
dian villages,  glancing  in  long  white  streaks,  like  veins  along 
the  landscape  ;  the  motley  crowd  of  gables,  roofs,  and  chim- 
ney tops  in  the  old  hilly  town  immediately  at  hand  ;  the 
beautiful  St.  Lawrence  sparkling  and  flashing  in  the  sun- 
light ;  and  the  tiny  ships  below  the  rock  from  which  you 
gaze,  whose  distant  rigging  looks  like  spiders'  webs  against 
the  light,  while  casks  and  barrels  on  their  decks  dwindle 
into  toys,  and  busy  mariners  become  so  many  puppets  ; 
all  this,  framed  by  a  sunken  window  in  the  fortress  and 
looked  at  from  the  shadowed  room  within,  forms  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  enchanting  pictures  that  the  eye  can  rest 
upon. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year,  vast  numbers  of  emigrants  who 
have  newly  arrived  from  England  or  from  Ireland,  pass  be- 
tween Quebec  and  Montreal  on  their  way  to  the  backwoods 
and  new  settlements  of  Canada.  If  it  be  an  entertaining 
lounge  (as  I  very  often  found  it)  to  take  a  morning  stroll  upon 
the  quay  at  Montreal,  and  see  them  grouped  in  hundreds  on 
the  public  wharves  about  their  chests  and  boxes,  it  is  matter 
of  deep  interest  to  be  their  fellow-passenger  on  one  of  these 
steamboats,  and,  mingling  with  the  concourse,  see  and  hear 
them  unobserved. 

The  vessel  in  which  we  returned  from  Quebec  to  Mon- 
treal was  crowded  with  them,  and  at  night  they  spread  their 
beds  between  decks  (those  who  had  beds,  at  least),  and  slept 
so  close  and  thick  about  our  cabin  door,  that  the  passage  to 
and  fro  was  quite  blocked  up.  They  were  nearly  all  En- 
glish ;  from  Gloucestershire  the  greater  part — and  had  had  a 
long  winter  passage  out  ;  but  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how 
clean  the  children  had  been  kept,  and  how  untiring  in  their 
love  and  self-denial  all  the  poor  parents  were. 

Cant  as  we  may,  and  as  we  shall  to  the  end  of  all  things, 


202  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

it  is  very  much  harder  for  the  poor  to  be  virtuous  than  it  is 
for  the  rich,  and  the  good  that  is  in  them,  shines  the  brighter 
for  it.  In  many  a  noble  mansion  lives  a  man,  the  best  of 
husbands  and  of  fathers,  whose  private  worth  in  both  capaci 
ties  is  justly  lauded  to  the  skies.  But  bring  him  here,  upon 
this  crowded  deck.  Strip  from  his  fair  young  wife  her  silken 
dress  and  jewels,  unbind  her  braided  hair,  stamp  early 
wrinkles  on  her  brow,  pinch  her  pale  cheek  with  care  and 
much  privation,  array  her  faded  form  in  coarsely  patched 
attire,  let  there  be  nothing  but  his  love  to  set  her  forth  or 
deck  her  out,  and  you  shall  put  it  to  the  proof  indeed.  So 
change  his  station  in  the  world,  that  he  shall  see  in  those 
young  things  who  climb  about  his  knee,  not  records  of  his 
wealth  and  name,  but  little  wrestlers  with  him  for  his  daily 
bread  ;  so  many  poachers  on  his  scanty  meal  ;  so  many  units 
to  divide  his  every  sum  of  comfort,  and  further  to  reduce  its 
small  amount.  In  lieu  of  the  endearments  of  childhood  in 
its  sweetest  aspect,  heap  upon  him  all  its  pains  and  wants,  its 
sicknesses  and  ills,  its  fretfulness,  caprice,  and  querulous  en- 
durance ;  let  its  prattle  be,  not  of  engaging  infant  fancies, 
but  of  cold,  and  thirst,  and  hunger  ;  and  if  his  fatherly  affec- 
tion outlive  all  this,  and  he  be  patient,  watchful,  tender  ; 
careful  of  his  children's  lives,  and  mindful  always  of  their 
joys  and  sorrows  ;  then  send  him  back  to  parliament,  and 
pulpit,  and  to  quarter  sessions,  and  when  he  hears  fine  talk 
of  the  depravity  of  those  who  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  and 
labor  hard  to  do  it,  let  him  speak  up,  as  one  who  knows,  and 
tell  those  holders  forth  that  they,  by  parallel  with  such  a 
class,  should  be  high  angels  in  their  daily  lives,  and  lay  but 
humble  siege  to  heaven  at  last. 

Which  of  us  shall  say  what  he  would  be,  if  such  realities, 
with  small  relief  or  change  all  through  his  days,  were  his  ! 
Looking  round  upon  these  people  :  far  from  home,  houseless, 
indigent,  wandering,  weary  with  travel  and  hard  living  :  and 
seeing  how  patiently  they  nursed  and  tended  their  young 
children  ;  how  they  consulted  ever  their  wants  first,  then 
half  supplied  their  own  ;  what  gentle  ministers  of  hope  and 
faith  the  women  were  ;  how  the  men  profited  by  their  ex- 
ample ;  and  how  very,  very  seldom  even  a  moment's  petu- 
lance or  harsh  complaint  broke  out  among  them  :  I  felt  a 
stronger  love  and  honor  of  my  kind  come  glowing  on  my 
heart,  and  wished  to  God  there  had  been  many  atheists  in 
the  better  part  of  human  nature  there,  to  read  this  simple 
lesson  in  the  Book  of  Life. 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  203 

We  left  Montreal  for  New  York  again,  on  the  thirtieth  of 
May  ;  crossing  to  La  Prairie,  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  in  a  steamboat ;  we  then  took  the  railroad  to  St. 
John's,  which  is  on  the  brink  of  Lake  Champlain.  Our  last 
greeting  in  Canada  was  from  the  English  officers  in  the 
pleasant  barracks  at  that  place  (a  class  of  gentlemen  who 
had  made  every  hour  of  our  visit  memorable  by  their  hos- 
pitality and  friendship)  ;  and  with  "  Rule  Britannia  "  sound- 
ing in  our  ears,  soon  left  it  far  behind. 

But  Canada  has  held,  and  always  will  retain,  a  foremost 
place  in  my  remembrance.  Few  Englishmen  are  prepared 
to  find  it  what  it  is.  Advancing  quietly  ;  old  differences 
settling  down,  and  being  fast  forgotten  ;  public  feeling  and 
private  enterprise  alike  in  a  sound  and  wholesome  state  ; 
nothing  of  flush  or  fever  in  its  system,  but  health  and  vigor 
throbbing  in  its  steady  pulse  :  it  is  full  of  hope  and  promise. 
To  me — who  had  been  accustomed  to  think  of  it  as  some- 
thing left  behind  in  the  strides  of  advancing  society,  as 
something  neglected  and  forgotten,  slumbering  and  wasting 
in  its  sleep — the  demand  for  labor  and  the  rates  of  wages  ; 
the  busy  quays  of  Montreal  ;  the  vessels  taking  in  their 
cargoes,  and  discharging  them  ;  the  amount  of  shipping  in 
the  different  ports  ;  the  commerce,  roads,  and  public  works, 
all  made  to  last ;  the  respectability  and  character  of  the 
public  journals  ;  ancf  the  amount  of  rational  comfort  and 
happiness  which  honest  industry  may  earn,  were  very  great 
surprises.  The  steamboats  on  the  lakes,  in  their  con- 
veniences, cleanliness,  and  safety  ;  in  the  gentlemanly  char- 
acter and  bearing  of  their  captains  ;  and  in  the  politeness 
and  perfect  comfort  of  their  social  regulations  ;  are  unsur- 
passed even  by  the  famous  Scotch  vessels,  deservedly  so 
much  esteemed  at  home.  The  inns  are  usually  bad  ;  because 
the  custom  of  boarding  at  hotels  is  not  so  general  here  as  in 
the  States,  and  the  British  officers,  who  form  a  large  portion 
of  the  society  of  every  town,  live  chiefly  at  the  regimental 
messes  ;  but  in  every  other  respect,  the  traveler  in  Canada 
will  find  as  good  provision  for  his  comfort  as  in  any  place  I 
know. 

There  is  one  American  boat — the  vessel  which  carried  us 
on  Lake  Champlain,  from  St.  John's  to  Whitehall — which  I 
praise  very  highly,  but  no  more  than  it  deserves,  when  I  say 
that  it  is  superior  even  to  that  in  which  we  went  from  Queens- 
ton  to  Toronto,  or  to  that  in  which  we  traveled  from  the 
latter  place  to  Kingston,  or  I  have  no  doubt  I  may  add  to 


20|  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

any  other  in  the  world.  This  steamboat,  which  is  called  the 
Burlington,  is  a  perfectly  exquisite  achievement  of  neatness, 
elegance,  and  order.  The  decks  are  drawing-rooms  ;  the 
cabins  are  boudoirs,  choicely  furnished  and  adorned  with 
prints,  pictures,  and  musical  instruments  ;  every  nook  and 
corner  in  the  vessel  is  a  perfect  curiosity  of  graceful  comfort 
and  beautiful  contrivance.  Captain  Sherman,  her  com- 
mander, to  whose  ingenuity  and  excellent  taste  these  results 
are  solely  attributable,  has  bravely  and  worthily  distinguished 
himself  on  more  than  one  trying  occasion  :  not  least  among 
them,  in  having  the  moral  courage  to  carry  British  troops  at 
a  time  (during  the  Canadian  rebellion)  when  no  other  con- 
veyance was  open  to  them.  He  and  his  vessel  are  held  in 
universal  respect,  both  by  his  own  countrymen  and  ours  ; 
and  no  man  ever  enjoyed  the  popular  esteem,  who,  in  his 
sphere  of  action,  won  and  wore  it  better  than  this  gentleman. 

By  means  of  this  floating  palace  we  were  soon  in  the 
United  States  again,  and  called  that  evening  at  Burlington, 
a  pretty  town,  where  we  lay  an  hour  or  so.  We  reached 
Whitehall,  where  we  were  to  disembark,  at  six  next  morn- 
ing ;  and  might  have  done  so  earlier,  but  that  these  steam- 
boats lie  by  for  some  hours  in  the  night,  in  consequence  of 
the  lake  becoming  very  narrow  at  that  part  of  the  journey, 
and  difficult  of  navigation  in  the  dark.  Its  width  is  so  con- 
tracted at  one  point,  indeed,  that  threy  are  obliged  to  warp 
round  by  means  of  a  rope. 

After  breakfasting  at  Whitehall,  we  took  the  stage-coach 
for  Albany  ;  a  large  and  busy  town,  where  we  arrived  be- 
tween five  and  six  o'clock  that  afternoon  ;  after  a  very  hot 
day's  journey,  for  we  were  now  in  the  height  of  summer 
again.  At  seven  we  started  for  New  York  on  board  a  great 
North  River  steamboat,  which  was  so  crowded  with  pas- 
sengers that  the  upper  deck  was  like  the  box  lobby  of  a 
theater  between  the  pieces,  and  the  lower  one  like  Totten- 
ham Court  Road  on  a  Saturday  night.  But  we  slept  soundly, 
notwithstanding,  and  soon  after  five  o'clock  next  morning 
reached  New  York. 

Tarrying  here,  only  that  day  and  night,  to  recruit  after 
our  late  fatigues,  we  started  off  once  more  upon  our  last 
journey  in  America.  We  had  yet  five  days  to  spare  before 
embarking  for  England,  and  I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  "  The 
Shaker  Village,"  which  is  peopled  by  a  religious  sect  from 
whom  it  takes  its  name. 

To  this  end,  we  went  "p  the  North  River  again,  as  far  as 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  205 

the  town  of  Hudson,  and  there  hired  an  extra  to  carry  us 
to  Lebanon,  thirty  miles  distant  ;  and  of  course  another  and 
a  different  Lebanon  from  that  village  where  I  slept  on  the 
night  of  the  prairie  trip. 

The  country  through  which  the  road  meandered  was  rich 
and  beautiful ;  the  weather  very  fine  ;  and  for  many  miles 
the  Kaatskill  Mountains,  where  Rip  Van  Winkle  and  the 
ghastly  Dutchmen  played  at  nine-pins  one  memorable  gusty 
afternoon,  towered  in  the  blue  distance,  like  stately  clouds. 
At  one  point  as  we  ascended  a  steep  hill,  athwart  whose 
base  a  railroad,  yet  constructing,  took  its  course,  we  came 
upon  an  Irish  colony.  With  means  at  hand  of  building 
decent  cabins,  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  clumsy,  rough, 
and  wretched,  its  hovels  were.  The  best  were  poor  protec- 
tion from  the  weather  ;  the  worst  let  in  the  wind  and  rain 
through  wide  breaches  in  the  roofs  of  sodden  grass,  and  in 
the  walls  of  mud  ;  some  had  neither  door  nor  window  ; 
some  had  nearly  fallen  down,  and  were  imperfectly  propped 
>up  by  stakes  and  poles  ;  all  were  ruinous  and  filthy.  Hid- 
eously ugly  old  women  and  very  buxom  young  ones,  pigs, 
dogs,  men,  children,  babies,  pots,  kettles,  dung-hills,  vile 
refuse,  rank  straw,  and  standing  water,  all  wallowing  to- 
gether in  an  inseparable  heap,  composed  the  furniture  of 
every  dark  and  dirty  hut. 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  at  night,  we  arrived  at 
Lebanon  ;  which  is  renowned  for  its  warm  baths,  and  for  a 
great  hotel,  well  adapted,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  the  gregarious 
taste  of  those  seekers  after  health  or  pleasure  who  repair 
here,  but  inexpressibly  comfortless  to  me.  We  were  shown 
into  an  immense  apartment,  lighted  by  two  dim  candles, 
called  the  drawing-room  ;  from  which  there  was  a  descent 
by  a  flight  of  steps,  to  another  vast  desert,  called  the  dining- 
room  ;  our  bed-chambers  were  among  certain  long  rows  of 
little  white-washed  cells,  which  opened  from  either  side  of 
a  dreary  passage  ;  and  were  so  like  rooms  in  a  prison  that 
I  half  expected  to  be  locked  up  when  I  went  to  bed,  and 
listened  involuntarily  for  the  turning  of  the  key  on  the  out- 
side. There  need  be  baths  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood, 
for  the  other  washing  arrangements  were  on  as  limited  a 
scale  as  I  ever  saw,  even  in  America  :  indeed,  these  bed- 
rooms were  so  very  bare  of  even  such  common  luxuries 
as  chairs,  that  I  should  say  they  were  not  provided  with 
enough  of  any  thing,  but  that  I  bethink  myself  of  our  having 
been  most  bountifully  bitten  all  night. 


206  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

The  house  is  very  pleasantly  situated,  however,  and  we 
had  a  good  breakfast.  That  done,  we  went  to  visit  our 
place  of  destination,  which  was  some  two  miles  off,  and  the 
way  to  which  was  soon  indicated  by  a  finger-post,  whereon 
was  painted,  "  To  the  Shaker  Village." 

As  we  rode  along,  we  passed  a  party  of  Shakers,  who  were 
at  work  upon  the  road  ;  who  wore  the  broadest  of  all  broad- 
brimmed  hats  ;  and  were  in  all  visible  respects  such  very 
wooden  men,  that  I  felt  about  as  much  sympathy  for  them, 
and  as  much  interest  in  them,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many 
figure-heads  of  ships.  Presently  we  came  to  the  beginning 
of  the  village,  and,  alighting  at  the  door  of  a  house  where 
the  Shaker  manufactures  are  sold,  and  which  is  the  head- 
quarters of  the  elders,  requested  permission  to  see  the 
Shaker  worship. 

Pending  the  conveyance  of  this  request  to  some  person  in 
authority,  we  walked  into  a  grim  room,  where  several  grim 
hats  were  hanging  on  grim  pegs,  and  the  time  was  grimly 
told  by  a  grim  clock,  which  uttered  every  tick  with  a  kind 
of  struggle,  as  if  it  broke  the  grim  silence  reluctantly,  and 
under  protest.  Ranged  against  the  wall  were  six  or  eight 
stiff  high-backed  chairs,  and  they  partook  so  strongly  of  the 
general  grimness,  that  one  would  much  rather  have  sat  on 
the  floor  than  incurred  the  slightest  obligation  to  any  of 
them. 

Presently  there  stalked  into  this  apartment,  a  grim  old 
Shaker,  with  eyes  as  hard,  and  dull,  and  cold,  as  the  great 
round  metal  buttons  on  his«;oat  and  waistcoat ;  a  sort  of  calm 
goblin.  Being  informed  of  our  desire,  he  produced  a  news- 
paper wherein  the  body  of  elders,  whereof  he  was  a  member, 
had  advertised  but  a  few  days  before,  that  in  consequence 
of  certain  unseemly  interruptions  which  their  worship  had 
received  from  strangers,  their  chapel  was  closed  to  the  pub- 
lic for  the  space  of  one  year. 

As  nothing  was  to  be  urged  in  opposition  to  this  reasona- 
ble arrangement,  we  requested  leave  to  make  some  trifling 
purchases  of  Shaker  goods  ;  which  was  grimly  conceded. 
We  accordingly  repaired  to  a  store  in  the  same  house  and  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  passage,  where  the  stock  was  pre- 
sided over  by  something  alive  in  a  russet  case,  which  the 
elder  said  was  a  woman  ;  and  which  I  suppose  was  a  woman, 
though  I  should  not  have  suspected  it. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  was  their  place  of  wor- 
ship :  a  cool,  clean  edifice  of  wood,  with  large  windows  and 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  207 

green  blinds  :  like  a  spacious  summer-house.  As  there  was 
no  getting  into  this  place,  and  nothing  was  to  be  done  but 
walk  up  and  down,  and  look  at  it  and  the  other  buildings  in 
the  village  (which  were  chiefly  of  wood,  painted  a  dark  red 
like  English  barns,  and  composed  of  many  stories  like  En- 
glish factories),  I  have  nothing  to  communicate  to  the  reader, 
beyond  the  scanty  results  I  gleaned  the  while  our  purchases 
were  making. 

These  people  are  called  Shakers  from  their  peculiar  form 
of  adoration,  which  consists  of  a  dance,  performed  by  the 
men  and  women  of  all  ages,  who  arrange  themselves  for  that 
purpose  in  opposite  parties  :  the  men  first  divesting  them- 
selves of  their  hats  and  coats,  which  they  gravely  hang  against 
the  wall  before  they  begin  ;  and  tying  a  ribbon  round  their 
shirt-sleeves,  as  though  they  were  going  to  be  bled.  They 
accompany  themselves  with  a  droning,  humming  noise,  and 
dance  until  they  are  quite  exhausted,  alternately  advancing 
and  retiring  in  a  preposterous  sort  of  trot.  The  effect  is 
said  to  be  unspeakably  absurd  :  and  if  I  may  judge  from  a 
print  of  this  ceremony  which  I  have  in  my  possession  ;  and 
which  I  am  informed  by  those  who  have  visited  the  lhapel, 
is  perfectly  accurate  ;  it  must  be  infinitely  grotesque. 

They  are  governed  by  a  woman,  and  her  rule  is  under- 
stood to  be  absolute,  though  she  has  the  assistance  of  a 
council  of  elders.  She  lives,  it  is  said,  in  strict  seclusion, 
in  certain  rooms  above  the  chapel,  and  is  never  shown  to 
profane  eyes.  If  she  at  all  resembles  the  lady  who  presided 
over  the  store,  it  is  a  great  charity  to  keep  -her  as  close  as 
possible,  and  I  can  not  too  strongly  express  my  perfect  con- 
currence in  this  benevolent  proceeding. 

All  the  possessions  and  revenues  of  the  settlement  are 
thrown  into  a  common  stock,  which  is  managed  b>t  the 
elders.  As  they  have  made  converts  among  people  who  are 
well-to-do  in  the  world,  and  are  frugal  and  thrifty,  it  is  un- 
derstood that  this  fund  prospers  ;  and  more  especially  as 
they  have  made  large  purchases  of  land.  Nor  is  this  at 
Lebanon  the  only  Shaker  settlement  :  there  are,  I  think,  at 
least  three  others. 

They  are  good  farmers,  and  all  their  produce  is  eagerly 
purchased  and  highly  esteemed.  "  Shaker  seeds,"  "Shaker 
herbs,"  and  "  Shaker  distilled  waters,"  are  commonly  an- 
nounced for  sale  in  the  shops  of  towns  and  cities.  They 
are  good  breeders  of  cattle,  and  are  kind  and  merciful  to  the 


2o8  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

brute  creation.  Consequently,  Shaker  beasts  seldom  fail  to 
find  a  ready  market. 

They  eat  and  drink  together,  after  the  Spartan  model,  at 
a  great  public  table.  There  is  no  union  of  sexes,  and  every 
Shaker,  male  and  female,  is  devoted  to  a  life  of  celibacy. 
Rumor  has  been  busy  upon  this  theme,  but  here  again  I 
must  refer  to  the  lady  of  the  store,  and  say,  that  if  any  of 
the  sister  Shakers  resemble  her,  I  treat  all  such  slander  as 
bearing  on  its  face  the  strongest  marks  of  wild  improbabil- 
ity. But  that  they  take  as  proselytes  persons  so  young  that 
they  can  not  know  their  own  minds,  and  can  not  possess 
much  strength  of  resolution  in  this  or  any  other  respect,  I 
can  assert  from  my  own  observation  of  the  extreme  juve- 
nility of  certain  youthful  Shakers  whom  I  saw  at  work  among 
the  .party  on  the  road. 

They  are  said  to  be  good  drivers  of  bargains,  but  to  be 
honest  and  just  in  their  transactions,  and  even  in  horse-deal- 
ing to  resist  those  thievish  tendencies  which  would  seem,  for 
some  undiscovered  reason,  to  be  almost  inseparable  from 
that  branch  of  traffic.  In  all  matters,  they  hold  their  own 
course'  quietly,  live  in  their  gloomy  silent  commonwealth, 
and  show  little  desire  to  interfere  with  other  people. 

This  is  well  enough  ;  but  nevertheless  I  can  not,  I  confess, 
incline  toward  the  Shakers  ;  view  them  with  much  favor, 
or  extend  toward  them  any  very  lenient  construction.  I  so 
abhor,  and  from  my  soul  detest  that  bad  spirit,  no  matter  by 
what  class  or  sect  it  may  be  entertained,  which  would  strip 
life  of  its  healthful  graces,  rob  youth  of  its  innocent  pleas- 
ures, pluck  from  maturity  and  age  their  pleasant  ornaments, 
and  make  existence  but  a  narrow  pathway  toward  the  grave  ; 
that  odious  spirit  which,  if  it  could  have  had  full  scope  and 
swayupon  the  earth,  must  have  blasted  and  made  barren  the 
imaginations  of  the  greatest  men,  and  left  them,  in  their 
power  of  raising  up  enduring  images  before  their  fellow- 
creatures  yet  unborn,  no  better  than  the  beasts  ;  that,  in 
these  very  broad-brimmed  hats  and  very  somber  coats — in 
stiff-necked,  solemn-visaged  piety,  in  short,  no  matter  what 
its  garb,  whether  it  have  cropped  hair  as  in  a  Shaker  village, 
or  long  nails  as  in  a  Hindoo  temple — I  recognize  the  worst 
among  the  enemies  of  heaven  and  earth,  who  turn  the  water 
at  the  marriage  feasts  of  this  poor  world,  not  into  wine,  but 
gall.  And  if  there  must  be  people  vowed  to  crush  the  harm- 
less fancies  and  the  love  of  innocent  delights  and  gayeties, 
which  are  a  part  of  human  nature  :  as  much  a  part  of  it  as 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  209 

any  other  love  or  hope  that  is  our  common  portion  :  let 
them  for  me,  stand  openly  revealed  among  the  ribald  and 
licentious  ;  the  very  idiots  know  that  they  are  not  on  the  im- 
mortal road,  and  will  despise  them,  and  avoid  them  readily. 

Leaving  the  Shaker  village  with  a  hearty  dislike  of  the 
old  Shakers,  and  a  hearty  pity  for  the  young  ones  :  tempered 
by  the  strong  probability  of  their  running  away  as  they  grow 
older  and  wiser,  which  they  not  uncommonly  do  :  we  re- 
turned to  Lebanon  and  so  to  Hudson,  by  the  way  we  had 
come  upon  the  previous  day.  There,  we  took  the  steamboat 
down  the  North  River  toward  New  York,  but  stopped,  some 
four  hours'  journey  short  of  it,  at  West  Point,  where 
we  remained  that  night,  and  all  next  day,  and  next  night 
too.  • 

In  this  beautiful  place  :  the  fairest  among  the  fair  and 
lovely  Highlands  of  the  North  River  :  shut  in  by  deep  green 
heights  and  ruined  forts,  and  looking  down  upon  the  distant 
town  of  Newburgh,  along  a  glittering  path  of  sunlit  water, 
with  here  and  there  a  skiff,,  whose  white  sail  often  bends  on 
some  new  tack  as  sudden  flaws  of  wind  come  down  upon  her 
from  the  gullies  in  the  hills  ;  hemmed  in,  besides,  all  round 
with  memories  of  Washington,  and  events  of  the  Revolution- 
ary War  :  is  the  Military  School  of  America. 

It  could  not  stand  on  more  appropriate  ground,  and  any 
ground  more  beautiful  can  hardly  be.  The  course  of  edu- 
cation is  severe,  but  well  devised,  and  manly.  Through 
June,  July,  and  August,  the  young  men  encamp  upon  the 
spacious  plain  whereon  the  college  stands  ;  and  all  the  year 
their  military  exercises  are  performed  there,  daily.  The 
term  of  study  at  this  institution,  which  the  State  requires 
from  all  cadets,  is  four  years  ;  but,  whether  it  be  from  the 
rigid  nature  of  the  discipline,  or  the  national  impatience  of 
restraint,  or  both  causes  combined,  not  more  than  half  the 
number  who  begin  their  studies  here,  ever  remain  to  finish 
them. 

The  number  of  cadets  being  about  equal  to  that  of  the 
members  of  Congress,  one  is  sent  here  from  every  congres- 
sional district :  its  members  influencing  the  selection.  Com- 
missions in  the  service  are  distributed  on  the  same  princi- 
ple. The  dwellings  of  the  various  professors  are  beautifully 
situated  ;  and  there  is  a  most  excellent  hotel  for  strangers, 
though  it  has  the  two  drawbacks  of  being  a  total  abstinence 
house  (wines  and  spirits  being  forbidden  to  the  students), 
and  of   serving  the  public  meals  at  rather  uncomfortable 


aid  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

hours  :  to  wit,  breakfast  at  seven,  dinner  at  one,  and  supper 
at  sunset. 

The  beauty  and  freshness  of  this  calm  retreat,  in  the  very 
dawn  and  greenness  of  summer — it  was  then  the  beginning 
of  June — were  exquisite  indeed.  Leaving  it  upon  the  sixth, 
and  returning  to  New  York,  to  embark  for  England  on  the 
succeeding  day,  I  was  glad  to  think  that  among  the  last  mem- 
orable beauties  which  had  glided  past  us,  and  softened  in  the 
bright  perspective,  were  those  whose  pictures,  traced  by  no 
common  hand,  are  fresh  in  most  men's  minds  ;  not  easily  to 
grow  old,  or  fade  beneath  the  dust  of  Time  :  the  Kaatskill 
Mountains,  Sleepy  Hollow,  and  the  Tappan  Zee. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE     PASSAGE     HOME. 

I  never  had  so  much  interest  before,  and  very  likely  I 
shall  never  have  so  much  interest  again,  in  the  state  of  the 
wind,  as  on  the  long-looked-for  morning  of  Tuesday  the 
7th  of  June.  Some  nautical  authority  had  told  me  a 
day  or  two  previous,  "  any  thing  with  west  in  it,  will  do  ;  " 
so  when  I  darted  out  of  bed  at  daylight,  and  throwing  up 
the  window,  was  saluted  by  a  lively  breeze  from  the  north- 
west which  had  sprung  up  in  the  night,  it  came  upon  me  so 
freshly,  rustling  with  so  many  happy  associations,  that  I 
conceived  upon  the  spot  a  special  regard  for  all  airs  blowing 
from  that  quarter  of  the  compass,  which  I  shall  cherish, 
I  dare  say,  until  my  own  wind  has  breathed  its  last 
frail  puff,  and  withdrawn  itself  forever  from  the  mortal 
calendar. 

The  pilot  had  not  been  slow  to  take  advantage  of  this 
favorable  weather,  and  the  ship  which  had  yesterday  been 
in  such  a  crowded  dock  that  she  might  have  retired  from 
trade  for  good  and  all,  for  any  chance  she  seemed  to  have 
of  going  to  sea,  was  now  full  sixteen  miles  away.  A  gallant 
sight  she  was,  when  we,  fast  gaining  on  her  in  a  steamboat, 
saw  her  in  the  distance  riding  at  anchor  ;  her  tall  masts 
pointing  up  in  graceful  lines  against  the  sky,  and  every  rope 
and  spar  expressed  in  delicate  and  thread-like  outline  ;  gal- 
lant, too,  when,  we  being  all  aboard,  the  anchor  came  up  to 
the  sturdy  chorus  "  Cheerily  men,  oh  cheerily  !  "  and  she 
followed  proudly   in   the  towing   steamboat's   wake  ;    but 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  211 

oravest  and  most  gallant  of  all,  when,  the  tow-rope  being 
cast  adrift,  the  canvas  fluttered  from  her  masts,  and,  spread- 
ing her  white  wings,  she  soared  away  upon  her  free  and 
solitary  course. 

In  the  after-cabin  we  were  only  fifteen  passengers  in  ah, 
and  the  greater  part  were  from  Canada,  where  some  of  us 
had  known  each  other.  The  night  was  rough  and  squally, 
so  were  the  next  two  days,  but  they  flew  by  quickly,  and 
we  were  soon  as  cheerful  and  snug  a  party,  with  an  honest, 
manly-hearted  captain  at  our  head,  as  ever  came  to  the  reso- 
lution of  being  mutually  agreeable,  on  land  or  water' 

We  breakfasted  at  eight,  lunched  at  twelve,  dined  at  three, 
and  took  our  tea  at  half-past  seven.  We  had  abundance  of 
amusements,  and  dinner  was  not  the  least  among  them  : 
firstly,  for  its  own  sake  ;  secondly,  because  of  its  extraor- 
dinary length  ;  its  duration,  inclusive  of  all  the  long  pauses 
between  the  courses,  being  seldom  less  than  two  hours  and 
a  half  ;  which  was  a  subject  of  never-failing  entertainment. 
By  way  of  beguiling  the  tediousness  of  these  banquets,  a 
select  association  was  formed  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
table,  below  the  mast,  to  whose  distinguished  president 
modesty  forbids  me  to  make  any  further  allusion,  which, 
being  a  very  hilarious  and  jovial  institution,  was  (prejudice 
apart)  in  high  favor  with  the  rest  of  the  community,  and  par- 
ticularly with  a  black  steward,  who  lived  for  three  weeks 
in  a  broad  grin  at  the  marvelous  humor  of  these  incorporated 
worthies. 

Then,  we  had  chess  for  those  who  played  it,  whist,  crib- 
bage,  books,  backgammon  and  shovel-board.  In  all  weath- 
ers, fair  or  foul,  calm  or  windy,  we  were  every  one  on  deck, 
walking  up  and  down  in  pairs,  lying  in  the  boats,  leaning 
over  the  side,  or  chatting  in  a  lazy  group  together.  We 
had  no  lack  of  music,  for  one  played  the  accordion,  another 
the  violin,  and  another  (who  usually  began  at  six  o'clock 
a.  M.)  the  key-bugle  ;  the  combined  effect  of  which  instru- 
ments, when  they  all  played  different  tunes  in  different 
parts  of  the  ship,  at  the  same  time,  and  within  hearing  of 
each  other,  as  they  sometimes  did  (every  body  being  in- 
tensely satisfied  with  his  own  performance,  was  simply 
hideous. 

When  all  these  means  of  entertainment  failed,  a  sail 
would  heave  in  sight,  looming,  perhaps,  the  very  spirit  of  a 
ship,  in  the  misty  distance,  or  passing  us  so  close  that 
through  our  glasses  we  could  see  the  people  on  her  decks, 


212  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

and  easily  make  out  her  name  and  whither  she  was  bound. 
For  hours  together  we  could  watch  the  dolphins  and  por- 
poises as  they  rolled  and  leaped  and  dived  round  the  ves- 
sel ;  or  those  small  creatures  ever  on  the  wing,  the  Mother 
Carey's  chickens,  which  have  borne  us  company  from 
New  York  Bay,  and  for  a  whole  fortnight  fluttered  about 
the  vessel's  stern.  For  some  days  we  had  a  dead  calm,  or 
very  light  winds,  during  which  the  crew  amused  them- 
selves with  fishing  and  hooked  an  unlucky  dolphin,  who 
expired,  in  all  his  rainbow  colors,  on  the  deck  ;  an  event 
of  such  importance  in  our  barren  calendar,  that  afterward 
we  dated  from  the  dolphin,  and  made  the  day  on  which  he 
died,  an  era. 

Besides  all  this,  when  we  were  five  or  six  days  out,  there 
began  to  be  much  talk  of  icebergs,  of  which  wandering 
islands  an  unusual  number  had  been  seen  by  the  vessels 
that  had  come  into  New  York  a  day  or  two  before  we  left 
that  port,  and  of  whose  dangerous  neighborhood  we  were 
warned  by  the  sudden  coldness  of  the  weather,  and  the  sink- 
ing of  the  mercury  in  the  barometer.  While  these  tokens 
lasted,  a  double  look-out  was  kept,  and  many  dismal  tales 
were  whispered  after  dark,  of  ships  that  had  struck  upon  the 
ice  and  gone  down  in  the  night  ;  but  the  wind  obliging  us 
to  hold  a  southward  course,  we  saw  none  of  them,  and  the 
weather  soon  grew  bright  and  warm  again. 

The  observation  every  day  at  noon,  and  the  subsequent 
working  of  the  vessel's  course,  was,  as  may  be  supposed,  a 
feature  in  our  lives  of  paramount  importance  ;  nor  were 
there  wanting  (as  there  never  are)  sagacious  doubters  of  the 
captain's  calculations,  who,  so  soon  as  his  back  was  turned, 
would,  in  the  absence  of  compasses,  measure  the  chart  with 
bits  of  string,  and  ends  of  pocket  handkerchiefs,  and  points 
of  snuffers,  and  clearly  prove  him  to  be  wrong  by  an  odd 
thousand  miles  or  so.  It  was  very  edifying  to  see  these  un- 
believers shake  their  heads  and  frown,  and  hear  them  hold 
forth  strongly  upon  navigation  :  not  that  they  knew  any 
thing  about  it,  but  that  they  always  mistrusted  the  captain 
in  calm  weather,  or  when  the  wind  was  adverse.  Indeed, 
the  mercury  itself  is  not  so  variable  as  this  class  of  passen- 
gers, whom  you  will  see,  when  the  ship  is  going  nobly 
through  the  water,  quite  pale  with  admiration,  swearing  that 
the  captain  beats  all  captains  ever  known,  and  even  hinting 
at  subscriptions  for  a  piece  of  plate  ;  and  who,  next  morn- 
ing, when  the  breeze  was  lulled,  and  all  the  sails  hang  use- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  213 

less  in  the  idle  air,  shake  their  despondent  heads  again,  and 
say,  with  screwed-up  lips,  they  hope  that  captain  is  a  sailor 
— but  they  shrewdly  doubt  him. 

It  even  became  an  occupation  in  the  calm,  to  wonder 
when  the  wind  would  spring  up  in  the  favorable  quarter, 
where,  it  was  clearly  shown  by  all  the  rules  and  precedents, 
it  ought  to  have  sprung  up  long  ago.  The  first  mate,  who 
whistled  for  it  zealously,  was  much  respected  for  his  persever- 
ance, and  was  regarded  even  by  the  unbelievers  as  a  first- 
rate  sailor.  Many  gloomy  looks  would  be  cast  upward 
through  the  cabin  sky-lights  at  the  flapping  sails  while  din- 
ner was  in  progress  ;  and  some,  growing  bold  in  ruefulness, 
predicted  that  we  should  land  about  the  middle  of  July. 
There  are  always  on  board  ship,  a  sanguine  one,  and  a  de- 
spondent one.  The  latter  character  carried  it  hollow  at  this 
period  of  the  voyage,  and  triumphed  over  the  sanguine  one 
at  every  meal,  by  inquiring  where  he  supposed  the  Great 
Western  (which  left  New  York  a  week  after  us)  was  now  ; 
and  where  he  supposed  the  Cunard  steam  packet  was  now  / 
and  what  he  thought  of  sailing  vessels,  as  compared  with 
steamships  now  ;  and  so  beset  his  life  with  pestilent  attacks 
of  that  kind,  that  he  too  was  obliged  to  affect  despondency, 
for  very  peace  and  quietude. 

These  were  additions  to  the  list  of  entertaining  incidents; 
but  there  was  still  another  source  of  interest.  We  carried 
in  the  steerage  nearly  a  hundred  passengers  :  a  little  world 
of  poverty  :  and  as  we  came  to  know  individuals  among 
them  by  sight,  from  looking  down  upon  the  deck  where 
they  took  the  air  in  day-time,  and  cooked  their  food,  and  very 
often  ate  it  too,  we  became  curious  to  know  their  histories, 
and  with  what  expectations  they  had  gone  to  America,  and 
on  what  errands  they  were  going  home,  and  what  their  cir- 
cumstances were.  The  information  we  got  on  these  heads 
from  the  carpenter,  who  had  charge  of  these  people,  was 
often  of  the  strangest  kind.  Some  of  them  had  been  in 
America  but  three  days,  some  but  three  months,  and  some 
had  gone  out  in  the  last  voyage  of  that  very  ship  in  which 
they  were  now  returning  home.  Others  had  sold  their 
clothes  to  raise  the  passage  money,  and  had  hardly  rags  to 
cover  them  ;  others  had  no  food,  and  lived  upon  the  charity 
of  the  rest  ;  and  one  man,  it  was  discovered  nearly  at  the 
end  of  the  voyage,  not  before — for  he  kept  his  secret  close, 
and  did  not  court  compassion — had  had  no  sustenance 
whatever  but  the  bones  and  scraps  of  fat  he  took  from  the 


04  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

plates  used  in  the  after-cabin  dinner,  when  they  were  put 
out  to  be  washed. 

The  whole  system  of  shipping  and  conveying  these  unfor- 
tunate persons  is  one  that  stands  in  need  of  thorough  revi- 
sion. If  any  class  deserve  to  be  protected  and  assisted  by 
the  government,  it  is  that  class  who  are  banished  from  their 
native  land  in  search  of  the  bare  means  of  subsistence.  All 
that  could  be  done  for  these  poor  people  by  the  great  com- 
passion and  humanity  of  the  captain  and  officers  was  done, 
but  they  require  much  more.  The  law  is  bound,  at  least  upon 
the  English  side,  to  see  that  too  many  of  them  are  not  put  on 
board  one  ship  ;  and  that  their  accommodations  are  decent  : 
not  demoralizing  and  profligate.  It  is  bound,  too,  in  common 
humanity,  to  declare  that  no  man  shall  be  taken  on  board 
without  his  stock  of  provisions  being  previously  inspected  by 
some  proper  officer,  and  pronounced  moderately  sufficient 
for  his  support  upon  the  voyage.  It  is  bound  to  provide,  or 
to  require  that  there  be  provided,  a  medical  attendant ; 
whereas  in  these  ships  there  are  none,  though  sickness  of 
adults,  and  deaths  of  children,  on  the  passage,  are  matters 
of  the  very  commonest  occurrence.  Above  all,  it  is  the  duty 
of  any  government,  be  it  monarchy  or  republic,  to  interpose 
and  put  an  end  to  that  system  by  which  a  firm  of  traders  in 
emigrants  purchase  of  the  owners  the  'tween-decks  of  a 
ship,  and  send  on  board  as  many  wretched  people  as  they 
can  lay  hold  of,  on  any  terms  they  can  get,  without  the 
smallest  reference  to  the  conveniences  of  the  steerage,  the 
number  of  berths,  the  slightest  separation  of  the  sexes,  or 
any  thing  but  their  own  immediate  profit.  Nor  is  even  this 
the  worst  of  the  vicious  system  :  for,  certain  crimping  agents 
of  these  houses,  who  have  a  percentage  on  all  the  passen- 
gers they  inveigle,  are  constantly  traveling  about  those  dis- 
tricts where  poverty  and  discontent  are  rife,  and  tempting 
the  credulous  into  more  misery,  by  holding  out  monstrous 
inducements  to  emigration  which  can  never  be  realized. 

The  history  of  every  family  we  had  on  board  was  pretty 
much  the  same.  After  hoarding  up  and  borrowing,  and 
begging,  and  selling  every  thing  to  pay  the  passage,  they  had 
gone  out  to  New  York,  expecting  to  find  its  streets  paved 
with  gold ;  and  had  found  them  paved  with  very  hard  and 
very  real  stones.  Enterprise  was  dull  ;  laborers  were  not 
wanted  ;  jobs  of  work  were  to  be  got,  but  the  payment  was 
not.  They  were  coming  back  even  poorer  than  they  went. 
One  of  them  was  carrying  an  open  letter  from  a  young 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  215 

English  artisan,  who  had  been  in  New  York  a  fortnight,  to 
a  friend  in  Manchester,  whom  he  strongly  urged  to  follow 
him.  One  of  the  officers  brought  it  to  me  as  a  curiosity. 
"This  is  the  country,  Jem,"  said  the  writer.  "  I  like  Amer- 
ica. There  is  no  despotism  here  ;  that's  the  great  thing. 
Employment  of  all  sorts  is  going  a-begging,  and  wages  are 
capital.  You  have  only  to  choose  a  trade,  Jem,  and  be  it. 
I  haven't  made  choice  of  one  yet,  but  I  shall  soon.  At 
present  I  haven  i  quite  made  up  my  mind  whether  to  be  a  car- 
penter— or  a  tailor.'* 

There  was  yet  another  kind  of  passenger,  and  but  one 
more,  who,  in  the  calm  and  the  light  winds,  was  a  constant 
theme  of  conversation  and  observation  among  us.  This  was 
an  English  sailor,  a  smart,  thorough-built  English  man-of- 
war's-man,  from  his  hat  to  his  shoes,  who  was  serving  in  the 
American  navy,  and,  having  got  leave  of  absence,  was  on  his 
way  home  to  see  his  friends.  When  he  presented  himself  to 
take  and  pay  for  his  passage,  it  had  been  suggested  to  him 
that,  being  an  able  seaman,  he  might  as  well  work  it  and  save 
the  money,  but  this  piece  of  advice  he  very  indignantly  re- 
jected ;    saying,    "  He'd  be  d d  but  for  once  he'd   go 

aboard  ship  as  a  gentleman."  Accordingly,  they  took  his 
money,  but  he  no  sooner  came  aboard,  than  he  stowed  his 
kit  in  the  forecastle,  arranged  to  mess  with  the  crew,  and 
the  very  first  time  the  hands  were  turned  up,  went  aloft  like 
a  cat,  before  any  body.  And  all  through  the  passage  there 
he  was,  first  at  the  braces,  outermost  on  the  yards,  perpetu- 
ally lending  a  hand  everywhere,  but  always  with  a  sober  dig- 
nity in  his  manner,  and  a  sober  grin  on  his  face,  which 
plainly  said,  "  I  do  it  as  a  gentleman.  For  my  own  pleasure, 
mind  you  !  " 

At  length  and  at  last  the  promised  wind  came  up  in  right 
good  earnest,  and  away  we  went  before  it,  with  every  stitch 
of  canvas  set,  slashing  through  the  water  nobly.  There  was 
a  grandeur  in  the  motion  of  the  splendid  ship,  as,  overshad- 
owed by  her  mass  of  sails,  she  rode  at  a  furious  pace  upon 
the  waves,  which  filled  one  with  an  indescribable  sense  of 
pride  and  exultation.  As  she  plunged  into  a  foaming  valley, 
how  I  loved  to  see  the  green  waves,  bordered  deep  with 
white,  come  rushing  on  astern,  to  buoy  her  upward  at  their 
pleasure,  and  curl  about  her  as  she  stooped  again,  but  always 
own  her  for  their  haughty  mistress  still  !  On,  on  we  flew, 
with  changing  lights  upon  the  water,  being  now  in  the  blessed 
region  of  fleecy  skies  ;  a  bright  sun  lighting  us  by  day,  and 


216  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

a  bright  moon  by  night  ;  the  vane  pointing  diiccay  home- 
ward, alike  the  truthful  index  to  the  favoring  wind  and  to 
our  cheerful  hearts  ;  until  at  sunrise,  one  fair  Monday  morn- 
ing— the  twenty-seventh  of  June,  I  shall  not  easily  forget 
the  day — there  lay  before  us,  old  Cape  Clear,  God  bless  it, 
showing,  in  the  mist  of  early  morning,  like  a  cloud  :  the 
brightest  and  most  welcome  cloud,  to  us,  that  ever  hid  the 
face  of  heaven's  fallen  sister — Home. 

Dim  speck  as  it  was  in  the  wide  prospect,  it  made  the  sun- 
rise a  more  cheerful  sight,  and  gave  to  it  that  sort  of  human 
interest  which  it  seems  to  want  at  sea.  There,  as  else- 
where, the  return  of  day  is  inseparable  from  some  sense  of 
renewed  hope  and  gladness  ;  but  the  light  shining  on  the 
dreary  waste  of  water,  and  showing  it  in  all  its  vast  extent  of 
loneliness,  presents  a  solemn  spectacle,  which  even  night, 
veiling  it  in  darkness  and  uncertainty,  does  not  surpass.  The 
rising  of  the  moon  is  more  in  keeping  with  the  solitary  ocean  ; 
and  has  an  air  of  melancholy  grandeur,  which  in  its  soft 
and  gentle  influence,  seems  to  comfort  while  it  saddens.  I 
reeollect  when  I  was  a  very  young  child  having  a  fancy  that 
the  reflection  of  the  moon  in  water  was  a  path  to  heaven, 
trodden  by  the  spirits  of  good  people  on  their  way  to  God  ; 
and  this  old  feeling  often  came  over  me  again,  when  I  watched 
it  on  a  tranquil  night  at  sea. 

The  wind  was  very  light  on  this  same  Monday  morning, 
but  it  was  still  in  the  right  quarter,  and  so,  by  slow  degrees, 
we  left  Cape  Clear  behind  and  sailed  along  within  sight  of 
the  coast  of  Ireland.  And  how  merry  we  all  were,  and  how 
loyal  to  the  George  Washington,  and  how  full  of  mutual 
congratulations,  and  how  venturesome  in  predicting  the  ex- 
act hour  at  which  we  should  arrive  at  Liverpool,  may  be 
easily  imagined  and  readily  understood.  Also,  how  heartily 
we  drank  the  captain's  health  that  day  at  dinner  ;  and  how 
restless  we  became  about  packing  up  ;  and  how  two  or  three 
of  the  most  sanguine  spirits  rejected  the  idea  of  going  to  bed 
at  all  that  night  as  something  it  was  not  worth  while  to  do, 
so  near  the  shore,  but  went  nevertheless,  and  slept  soundly  ; 
and  how  to  be  so  near  our  journey's  end,  was  like  a  pleas- 
ant dream,  from  which  one  feared  to  wake. 

The  friendly  breeze  freshened  again  next  day,  and  on  we 
went  once  more  before  it  gallantly  :  descrying  now  and  then 
an  English  ship  going  homeward  under  shortened  sail, 
while  we  with  every  inch  of  canvas  crowded  on,  dashed  gayly 
past,  and  left  her  far  behind.     Toward  evening,  the  weather 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  *    217 

turned  hazy  with  drizzling  rain  ;  and  soon  became  so  thick, 
that  we  sailed  as  it  were  in  a  cloud.  Still  we  swept  onward 
like  a  phantom  ship,  and  many  an  eager  eye  glanced  up  to 
where  the  look-out  on  the  mast  kept  watch  for  Holyhead. 

At  length  his  long-expected  cry  was  heard,  and  at  the 
same  moment  there  shone  out  from  the  haze  and  mist  ahead, 
a  gleaming  light,  which  presently  was  gone,  and  soon  re- 
turned, and  soon  was  gone  again.  Whenever  it  came  back, 
the  eyes  of  all  on  board  brightened  and  sparkled  like  it- 
self :  and  there  we  all  stood,  watching  for  this  revolving 
light  upon  the  rock  at  Holyhead,  and  praising  it  for  its 
brightness  and  its  friendly  warning,  and  lauding  it,  in  short, 
above  all  other  signal  lights  that  ever  were  displayed,  until 
it  once  more  glimmered  faintly  in  the  distance,  far  behind  us. 

Then  it  was  time  to  fire  a  gun  for  a  pilot  ;  and  almost 
before  its  smoke  had  cleared  away,  a  little  boat  with  a  light 
at  her  mast-head  came  bearing  down  upon  us,  through  the 
darkness,  swiftly.  And  presently,  our  sails  being  backed,  she 
ran  alongside  ;  and  the  hoarse  pilot,  wrapped  and  muffled 
in  pea-coats  and  shawls  to  the  very  bridge  of  his  weather- 
plowed-up  nose,  stood  bodily  among  us  on  the  deck.  And 
I  think  if  that  pilot  had  wanted  to  borrow  fifty  pounds  for 
an  indefinite  period  on  no  security,  we  should  have  engaged 
to  lend  it  to  him,  among  us,  before  his  boat  had  dropped 
astern,  or  (which  is  the  same  thing)  before  every  scrap  of 
news  in  the  paper  he  brought  with  him  had  become  the  com- 
mon property  of  all  on  board. 

We  turned  in  pretty  late  that  night,  and  turned  out  pretty 
early  next  morning.  By  six  o'clock  we  clustered  on  the 
deck,  prepared  to  go  ashore  ;  and  looked  upon  the  spires, 
and  roofs,  and  smoke,  of  Liverpool.  By  eight  we  all  sat 
down  in  one  of  its  hotels,  to  eat  and  drink  together  for  the 
last  time.  And  by  nine  we  had  shaken  hands  all  round,  and 
broken  up  our  social  company  forever. 

The  country,  by  the  railroad,  seemed,  as  we  ratttled 
through  it,  like  a  luxuriant  garden.  The  beauty  of  the  fields 
(so  small  they  looked  ! ),  the  hedge-rows,  and  the  trees  ;  the 
pretty  cottages,  the  beds  of  flowers,  the  old  church-yards, 
the  antique  houses,  and  every  well-known  object  ;  the  ex- 
quisite delights  of  that  one  journey,  crowding  in  the  short 
compass  of  a  summer's  day,  the  joy  of  many  years,  with 
the  winding  up  with  home  and  all  that  makes  it  dear  ;  no 
tongue  can  tell,  or  pen  of  mine  describe. 


m  *  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

SLAVERY. 

The  upholders  of  slavery  in  America — of  the  attrocities 
of  which  system,  I  shall  not  write  one  word  for  which  I  have 
not  had  ample  proof  and  warrant — may  be  divided  into 
three  great  classes. 

The  first,  are  those  more  moderate  and  rational  owners  of 
human  cattle,  who  have  come  into  the  possession  of  them 
as  so  many  coins  in  their  trading  capital,  but  who  admit  the 
frightful  nature  of  the  institution  in  the  abstract,  and  per- 
ceive the  dangers  to  society  with  which  it  is  fraught  ,  dangers 
which,  however  distant  they  may  be,  or  howsoever  tardy  in 
their  coming  on,  are  as  certain  to  fall  upon  its  guilty  head, 
'is  is  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

The  second,  consists  of  all  those  owners,  breeders,  users, 
buyers  and  sellers  of  slaves,  who  will,  until  the  bloody 
chapter  has  a  bloody  end,  own,  breed,  use,  buy,  and  sell 
them  at  all  hazards  ;  who  doggedly  deny  the  horrors  of  the 
system  in  the  teeth  of  such  a  mass  of  evidence  as  never  was 
brought  to  bear  on  any  other  subject,  and  to  which  the  ex- 
perience of  every  day  contributes  its  immense  amount ;  who 
would  at  this  or  any  other  moment,  gladly  involve  America 
in  a  war,  civil  or  foreign,  provided  that  it  had  for  its  sole 
end  and  object  the  assertion  of  their  right  to  perpetuate 
slavery,  and  to  whip  and  work  and  torture  slaves,  unques- 
tioned by  any  human  authority,  and  unassailed  by  any 
human  power  ;  who,  when  they  speak  of  freedom,  mean  the 
freedom  to  oppress  their  kind,  and  to  be  savage,  merciless, 
and  cruel  ;  and  of  whom  every  man  on  his  own  ground,  in 
republican  America,  is  a  more  exacting,  and  a  sterner,  and  a 
less  responsible  despot  than  the  Caliph  Haroun  Alraschid  in 
his  angry  robe  of  scarlet. 

The  third,  and  not  the  least  numerous  or  influential,  is 
composed  of  all  that  delicate  gentility  which  can  not  bear  a 
superior,  and  can  not  brook  an  equal  ;  of  that  class  whose 
republicanism  means,  "  I  will  not  tolerate  a  man  above  me  ; 
and  of  those  below,  none  must  approach  too  near  ;  "  whose 
pride,  in  a  land  where  voluntary  servitude  is  shunned  as  a  dis- 
grace, must  be  .ministered  to  by  slaves  ;  and  whose  inalien- 
able rights  can  only  have  their  growth  in  negro  wrongs. 

It  has  been  sometimes  urged  that,  in  the  unavailing  efforts 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  219 

which  have  been  made  to  advance  the  cause  of  human  free- 
dom in  the  republic  of  America  (strange  cause  for  history 
to  treat  of  !)  sufficient  regard  has  not  been  had  to  the  exist- 
ence of  the  first  class  of  persons  ;  and  it  has  been  contended 
that  they  are  hardly  used,  in  being  confounded  with  the 
second.  This  is,  no  doubt,  the  case  ;  noble  instances  of 
pecuniary  and  personal  sacrifice  have  already  had  their 
growth  among  them  ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  regretted  that 
the  gulf  between  them  and  the  advocates  of  emancipation 
should  have  been  widened  and  deepened  by  any  means  ; 
the  rather,  as  there  are,  beyond  dispute,  among  these  slave- 
owners, many  kind  masters  who  are  tender  in  the  exercise 
of  their  unnatural  power.  Still,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  this 
injustice  is  inseparable  from  the  state  of  things  with  which 
humanity  and  truth  are  called  upon  to  deal.  Slavery  is  not 
a  whit  the  more  endurable  because  some  hearts  are  to  be 
found  which  can  partially  resist  its  hardening  influences  ; 
nor  can  the  indignant  tide  of  honest  wrath  stand  still,  be- 
cause in  its  onward  course  it  overwhelms  a  few  who  are 
comparatively  innocent,  among  a  host  of  guilty. 

The  ground  most  honestly  taken  by  these  better  men 
among  the  advocates  of  slavery,  is  this  :  "  It  is  a  bad 
system  ;  and  for  myself  I  would  willingly  get  rid  of  it,  if 
I  could  ;  most  willingly.  But  it  is  not  so  bad  as  you^J  in 
England  take  it  to  be.  You  are  deceived  by  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  emancipationists.  The  greater  part  of 
my  slaves  are  much  attached  to  me.  You  will  say  that 
I  da  not  allow  them  to  be  severely  treated  ;  but  I  will 
put  it  to  you  whether  you  believe  that  it  can  be  a  gen- 
eral practice  to  treat  them  inhumanly,  when  it  would  im- 
pair their  value,  and  would  be  obviously  against  the 
interests  of  their  masters." 

Is  it  the  interest  of  any  man  to  steal,  to  game,  to  waste 
his  health  and  mental  faculties  by  drunkenness,  to  lie,  for- 
swear himself,  indulge  hatred,  seek  desperate  revenge,  or  do 
murder  ?  No.  All  these  are  roads  to  ruin.  And  why, 
then,  do  men  tread  them  ?  Because  such  inclinations  are 
among  the  vicious  qualities  of  mankind.  Blot  out,  ye 
friends  of  slavery,  from  the  catalogue  of  human  passions, 
brutal  lust,  cruelty,  and  the  abuse  of  irresponsible  power 
(of  all  earthly  temptations  the  most  difficult  to  be  resisted), 
and  when  ye  have  done  so,  and  not  before,  we  will  inquire 
whether  it  be  the  interest  of  a  master  to  lash  and  maim  the 
slaves,  over  whose  lives  and  limbs  he  has  an  absolute  con 
trol ! 


220  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

But  again  :  this  class,  together  with  that  last  one  I  have 
named,  the  miserable  aristocracy  spawned  of  a  false  republic, 
lift  up  their  voices  and  exclaim  "  Public  opinion  is 
all  sufficient  to  prevent  such  cruelty  as  you  denounce." 
Public  opinion !  Why,  public  opinion  in  the  slave 
states  is  slavery,  is  it  not  ?  Public  opinion,  in  the  slave 
states,  has  delivered  the  slaves  over  to  the  gentle  mercies 
of  their  masters.  Public  opinion  has  made  the  laws,  and 
denied  the  slaves  legislative  protection.  Public  opinion 
has  knotted  the  lash,  heated  the  branding-iron,  loaded 
the  rifle,  and  shielded  the  murderer.  Public  opin- 
ion threatens  the  abolitionist  with  death,  if  he  venture 
to  the  South  ;  and  drags  him  with  a  rope  about  his  middle, 
in  broad  unblushing  noon,  through  the  first  city  in  the  East. 
Public  opinion  has,  within  a  few  years,  burned  a  slave  alive 
at  a  slow  fire  in  the  city  of  St.  Louis  ;  and  public  opinion  has 
to  this  day  maintained  upon  the  bench  that  estimable  judge 
who  charged  the  jury,  impaneled  there  to  try  his  murderers, 
that  their  most  horrid  deed  was  an  act  of  public  opinion,  and 
being  so,  must  not  be  punished  by  the  laws  the  public  sen- 
timent had  made.  Public  opinion  hailed  this  doctrine  with 
a  howl  of  wild  applause,  and  set  the  prisoners  free  to  walk 
the  city,  men  of  mark,  and  influence,  and  station,  as  they 
had  been  before. 

Public  opinion  !  What  class  of  men  have  an  immense  pre- 
ponderance over  the  rest  of  the  community,  in  their  power 
of  representing  public  opinion  in  the  legislature  ?  the  slave 
owners.  They  send  from  their  twelve  states  one  hundred 
members,  while  the  fourteen  free  states,  with  a  free  popula- 
tion nearly  double,  return  but  a  hundred  and  forty-two. 
Before  whom  do  the  presidential  candidates  bow  down  the 
most  humbly,  on  whom  do  they  fawn  the  most  fondly,  and 
for  whose  tastes  do  they  cater  the  most  assiduously  in  their 
servile  protestations  ?    The  slave  owners  always. 

Public  opinion  !  Hear  the  public  opinion  of  the  free  South, 
as  expressed  by  its  own  members  in  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives at  Washington.  "  I  have  a  great  respect  for  the 
chair,"  quoth  North  Carolina,  "  I  have  a  great  respect  for 
the  chair  as  an  officer  of  the  House,  and  a  great  respect  for 
him  personally  ;  nothing  but  that  respect  prevents  me  from 
rushing  to  the  table  and  tearing  that  petition  which  has  just 
been  presented  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  to  pieces." — "  I  warn  the  abolitionists,"  says 
South  Carolina,   "  ignorant,  infuriated  barbarians  as  they 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  221 

are,  that  if  chance  shall  throw  any  of  them  into  our  hands, 
he  may  expect  a  felon's  death." — "  Let  an  abolitionist  come 
within  the  borders  of  South  Carolina,"  cries  a  third  ;  mild 
Carolina's  colleague  ;  "  and  if  we  can  catch  him,  we  will  try 
him,  and  notwithstanding  the  interference  of  all  the  govern- 
ments on  earth,  including  the  federal  government,  we  will 
hang  him." 

Public  opinion  has  made  this  law. — It  has  declared  that 
in  Washington,  in  that  city  which  takes  its  name  from  the 
father  of  American  liberty,  any  justice  of  the  peace  may  bind 
with  fetters  any  negro  passing  down  the  street  and  thrust 
him  into  jail ;  no  offense  on  the  black  man's  part  is  neces- 
sary. The  justice  says  ;  "  I  choose  to  think  this  man  a  run- 
away ;  "  and  locks  him  up.  Public  opinion  impowers  the 
man  of  law  when  this  is  done,  to  advertise  the  negro  in  the 
newspapers,  warning  his  owner  to  come  and  claim  him,  or 
he  will  be  sold  to  pay  the  jail  fees.  But  supposing  he  is  a 
free  black,  and  has  no  owner,  it  may  naturally  be  presumed 
that  he  is  set  at  liberty.  No  ;  he  is  sold  to  recompense 
his  jailer.  This  has  been  done  again,  and  again,  and 
again.  He  has  no  means  of  proving  his  freedom  ;  has  no 
adviser,  messenger,  or  assistance  of  any  sort  or  kind  ;  no 
investigation  into  his  case  is  made  or  inquiry  instituted. 
He,  a  free  man,  who  may  have  served  for  years,  and  bought 
his  liberty,  is  thrown  into  jail  on  no  process,  for  no  crime, 
and  on  no  pretense  of  crime  ;  and  is  sold  to  pay  the  jail  fees. 
This  seems  incredible,  even  of  America,  but  it  is  the  law. 

Public  opinion  is  deferred  to,  in  such  cases  as  the  follow- 
ing ;  which  is  headed  in  the  newspapers — 

"Interesting  Law -Case. 

"  An  interesting  case  is  now  on  trial  in  the  Supreme  Court, 
arising  out  of  the  following  facts.  A  gentleman  residing  in 
Maryland  had  allowed  an  aged  pair  of  his  slaves,  substan- 
tial though  not  legal  freedom  for  several  years.  While  thus 
living,  a  daughter  was  born  to  them,  who  grew  up  in  the 
same  liberty,  until  she  married  a  free  negro,  and  went  with 
him  to  reside  in  Pennsylvania.  They  had  several  children, 
and  lived  unmolested  until  the  original  owner  died,  when 
his  heir  attempted  to  regain  them  ;  but  the  magistrate  before 
whom  they  were  brought,  decided  that  he  had  no  jurisdic- 
tion in  the  case.  The  owner  seized  the  woman  and  her  chil- 
dren in  the  nighty  and  carried  them  to  Maryland." 


222  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

"  Cash  for  negroes,"  "  cash  for  negroes,"  "cash  for  ne- 
groes," is  the  heading  of  advertisements  in  great  capitals 
down  the  long  columns  of  the  crowded  journals.  Wood- 
cuts of  a  runaway  negro  with  manacled  hands,  crouching 
beneath  a  bluff  pursuer  in  top-boots,  who,  having  caught 
him,  grasps  him  by  the  throat,  agreeably  diversify  the 
pleasant  text.  The  leading  article  protests  against  "  that 
abominable  and  hellish  doctrine  of  abolition,  which  is 
repugnant  alike  to  every  law  of  God  and  nature."  The 
delicate  mamma,  who  smiles  her  acquiescence  in  this 
sprightly  writing  as  she  reads  the  paper  in  her  cool  piazza, 
quiets  her  youngest  child  who  clings  about  her  skirts,  by 
promising  the  boy  "  a  whip  to  beat  the  little  niggers  with." 
— But  the  negroes,  little  and  big,  are  protected  by  public 
opinion. 

Let  us  try  this  public  opinion  by  another  test,  which  is 
important  in  three  points  of  view  :  first,  as  showing  how 
desperately  timid  of  the  public  opinion  slave  owners  are,  in 
their  delicate  descriptions  of  fugitive  slaves  in  widely  circu- 
lated newspapers  ;  secondly,  as  showing  how  perfectly  con- 
tented the  sJaves  are,  and  how  very  seldom  they  run  away  ; 
thirdly,  as  exhibiting  their  entire  freedom  from  scar,  or 
blemish,  or  any  mark  of  cruel  infliction,  as  their  pictures 
are  drawn,  not  by  abolitionists,  but  by  their  own  truthful 
masters. 

The  following  are  a  few  specimens  of  the  advertisements 
in  the  public  papers.  It  is  only  four  years  since  the  oldest 
among  them  appeared  ;  and  others  of  the  same  nature  con- 
tinue to  be  published  every  day  in  shoals. 

"  Ran  away,  negress  Caroline.  Had  on  a  collar  with  one 
prong  turned  down." 

"  Ran  away,  a  black  woman,  Betsy.  Had  an  iron  bar  on 
her  right  leg." 

"  Ran  away,  the  negro  Manuel.  Much  marked  with  irons." 

"  Ran  away,  the  negress  Fanny.  Had  on  an  iron  band 
about  her  neck." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  boy  about  twelve  years  old.  Had 
round  his  neck  a  chain  dog-collar  with  '  De  Lampert '  en- 
graved on  it." 

"  Ran  away,  the  negro  Hown.  Has  a  ring  of  iron  on  his 
left  foot.  Also,  Grise,  his  wife,  having  a  ring  and  chain  on 
the  left  leg." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  boy  named  James.  Said  boy  was 
ironed  when  he  left  me." 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  223 

u  Committed  to  jail,  a  man  who  calls  his  name  John.  He 
has  a  clog  of  iron  on  his  right  foot  which  will  weigh  four  or 
five  pounds." 

"  Detained  at  the  police  jail,  the  negro  wench,  Myra. 
Has  several  marks  of  lashing,  and  has  irons  on  her 
feet." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  woman  and  two  children.  A  few 
days  before  she  went  off,  I  burnt  her  with  a  hot  iron,  on  the 
left  side  of  her  face.     I  tried  to  make  the  letter  M." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  man  named  Henry  ;  his  left  eye  out, 
some  scars  from  a  dirk  on  and  under  his  left  arm,  and  much 
scarred  with  the  whip." 

"  One  hundred  dollars  reward,  for  a  negro  fellow,  Pompey, 
40  years  old.     He  is  branded  on  the  left  jaw." 

"  Committed  to  jail,  a  negro  man.  Has  no  toes  on  the 
left  foot." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  woman  named  Rachel.  Has  lost 
all  her  toes  except  the  large  one." 

"  Ran  away,  Sam.  He  was  shot  a  short  time  since 
through  the  hand,  and  has  several  shots  in  his  left  arm 
and  side." 

"  Ran  away,  my  negro  man  Dennis.  Said  negro  has 
been  shot  in  the  left  arm  between  the  shoulder  and  elbow, 
which  has  paralyzed  the  left  hand." 

"  Ran  away,  my  negro  man  named  Simon.  He  has  been 
shot  badly,  in  his  back  and  right  arm." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  named  Arthur.  Has  a  considerable 
scar  across  his  breast  and  each  arm,  made  by  a  knife  ; 
loves  to  talk  much  of  the  goodness  of  God." 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  reward  for  my  man  Isaac.  He  has 
a  scar  on  his  forehead,  caused  by  a  blow  ;  and  one  on  his 
back,  made  by  a  shot   from  a  pistol." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  girl  called  Mary.  Has  a  small 
scar  over  her  eye,  a  good  many  teeth  missing,  the  letter 
A  is  branded  on  her  cheek  and  forehead." 

"  Ran  away,  negro  Ben.  Has  a  scar  on  his  right  hand  ; 
his  thumb  and  forefinger  being  injured  by  being  shot  last 
fall.  A  part  of  the  bone  came  out.  He  has  also  one  or  two 
large  scars  on  his  back  and  hips." 

1  Detained  at  the  jail,  a  mulatto,  named  Tom.  Has  a 
scar  on  the  right  cheek,  and  appears  to  have  been  burned 
with  powder  on  the  face." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  man  named  Ned.  Three  of  his 
fingers  are  drawn  into  the  palm  of  his  hand  by  a  cut.     Has 


224  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

a  scar  on  the  back  of  his  neck  nearly  half  round,  done  by  a 
knife." 

"  Was  committed  to  jail,  a  negro  man.  Says  his  name  is 
Josiah.  His  back  very  much  scarred  by  the  whip  ;  and 
branded  on  the  thigh  and  hips  in  three  or  four  places,  thus 
(J.  M).     The  rim  of  his  right  ear  has  been  bit  or  cut  off." 

"  Fifty  dollars  reward,  for  my  fellow  Edward.  He  has  a 
scar  on  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  two  cuts  on  and  under  his 
arm,  and  the  letter  E  on  his  arm." 

"  Ran  away,  negro  boy  Ellie.  Has  a  scar  on  one  of 
his  arms  from  the  bite  of  a  dog." 

"  Ran  away,  from  the  plantation  of  James  Surgette,  the 
following  negroes  :  Randal,  has  one  ear  cropped  ;  Bob,  has 
lost  one  eye  ;  Kentucky  Tom,  has  one  jaw  broken." 

a  Ran  away,  Anthony  One  of  his  ears  cut  off,  and  his 
left  hand  cut  with  an  ax." 

"  Fifty  dollars  reward  for  the  negro  Jim  Blake.  Has  a 
piece  cut  out  of  each  ear,  and  the  middle  finger  of  the  left 
hand  cut  off  to  the  second  joint." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  woman  named  Maria.  Has  a  scar 
on  one  side  of  her  cheek,  by  a  cut.  Some  scars  on  her 
back." 

"  Ran  .away,  the  mulatto  wench  Mary.  Has  a  cut  on  the 
left  arm,  a  scar  on  the  left  shoulder,  and  two  upper  teeth 
missing." 

I  should  say,  perhaps,  in  an  explanation  of  this  latter  piece 
of  description,  that  among  the  other  blessings  which  public 
opinion  secures  to  the  negroes,  is  the  common  practice  of 
violently  punching  out  their  teeth.  To  make  them  wear 
iron  collars  by  day  and  night,  and  to  worry  them  with  dogs, 
are  practices  almost  too  ordinary  to  deserve  mention. 

"  Ran  away,  my  man  Fountain.  Has  holes  in  his  ears,  a 
scar  on  the  right  side  of  the  forehead,  has  been  shot  in  the 
hind  parts  of  the  legs,  and  is  marked  on  the  back  with  the 
whip." 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  reward  for  my  negro  man 
Jim.  He  is  much  marked  with  shot  in  his  right  thigh. 
The  shot  entered  on  the  outside,  half  way  between  the  hip 
and  knee  joints." 

"  Brought  to  jail,  John.     Left  ear  cropped." 

"  Taken  up,  a  negro  man.  Is  very  much  scarred  about 
the  face  and  body,  and  the  left  ear  bit  off." 

"  Ran  away,  a  black  girl,  named  Mary.  Has  a  scar  on 
her  cheek,  and  the  end  of  one  of  her  toes  cut  off." 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  225 

"  Ran  away,  my  mulatto  woman,  Judy.  She  has  had  her 
right  arm  broke." 

"  Ran  away,  my  negro  man,  Levi.  His  left  hand  has  been 
burnt,  and  I  think  the  end  of  his  forefinger  is  off." 

"  Ran  away,  a  negro  man,  named  Washington.  Has 
lost  a  part  of  his  middle  finger,  and  the  end  of  his  little 
finger." 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  reward  for  my  man  John.  The  tip 
of  his  nose  is  bit  off." 

Twenty-five  dollars  reward  for  the  negro  slave,  Sally. 
Walks  as  though  crippled  in  the  back." 

"  Ran  away,  Joe  Dennis.  Has  a  small  notch  in  one  of 
his  ears." 

"  Ran  away,  my  negro  boy,  Jack.  Has  a  small  crop  out 
of  his  left  ear." 

11  Ran  away,  a  negro  man,  named  Ivory.  Has  a  small 
piece  cut  out  of  the  top  of  each  ear." 

While  upon  the  subject  of  ears,  I  may  observe  that  a  dis- 
tinguished abolitionist  in  New  York  once  received  a  negro's 
ear,  which  had  been  cut  off  close  to  the  head,  in  a  general 
post  letter.  It  was  forwarded  by  the  free  and  independent 
gentleman  who  had  caused  it  to  be  amputated,  with  a  polite 
request  that  he  would  place  the  specimen  in  his  "  collec- 
tion." 

I  could  enlarge  this  catalogue  with  broken  arms,  and 
broken  legs,  and  gashed  flesh,  and  missing  teeth,  and  lacer- 
ated backs,  and  bites  of  dogs,  and  brands  of  red-hot  irons 
innumerable  ;  but  as  my  readers  will  be  sufficiently  sickened 
and  repelled  already,  I  will  turn  to  another  branch  of  the 
subject. 

These  advertisements,  of  which  a  similar  collection  might 
be  made  for  every  year,  and  month,  and  week,  and  day  ; 
and  which  are  coolly  read  in  families  as  things  of  course,  and 
as  a  part  of  the  current  news  and  small-talk  ;  will  serve  to 
show  how  very  much  the  slaves  profit  by  public  opinion,  and 
how  tender  it  is  in  their  behalf.  But  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  inquire  how  the  slave  owners,  and  the  class  of  society 
to  which  great  numbers  of  them  belong,  defer  to  public 
opinion  in  their  conduct,  not  to  their  slaves  but  to  each 
other  ;  how  they  are  accustomed  to  restrain  their  passions  ; 
what  their  bearing  is  among  themselves  ;  whether  they  are 
fierce  or  gentle  ;  whether  their  social  customs  be  brutal, 
sanguinary,  and  violent,  or  bear  the  impress  of  civilization 
and  refinement. 


fs6  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

That  we  may  have  no  partial  evidence  from  abolitionists 
in  this  inquiry,  either,  I  will  once  more  return  to  their  own 
newspapers,  and  I  will  confine  myself,  this  time,  to  a  selection 
from  the  paragraphs  which  appeared  from  day  to  day,  during 
my  visit  to  America,  and  which  refer  to  occurrences  happen- 
ing while  I  was  there.  The  italics  in  these  extracts,  as  in  the 
foregoing,  are  my  own. 

These  cases  did  not  all  occur,  it  will  be  seen,  in  territory 
actually  belonging  to  legalized  slave  states,  though  most,  and 
those  the  very  worst  among  them,  did,  as  their  counterparts 
constantly  do  ;  but  the  position  of  the  scenes  of  action  in 
reference  to  places  immediately  at  hand,  where  slavery  is  the 
law  ;  and  the  strong  resemblance  between  that  class  of  out- 
rages and  the  rest  ;  lead  to  the  just  presumption  that  the 
character  of  the  parties  concerned  was  formed  in  slave  dis- 
tricts and  brutalized  by  slave  customs. 

"horrible  Tragedy. 

"  By  a  slip  from  The  Southport  Telegraph,  Wisconsin, 
we  learn  that  the  Hon.  Charles  C.  P.  Arndt,  member  of  the 
council  for  Brown  County,  was  shot  dead  on  the  floor  of  the 
council  chamber ■,  by  James  R.  Vinyard,  member  from  Grant 
County.  The  affair  grew  out  of  a  nomination  for  Sheriff  of 
Grant  County.  Mr.  E.  S.  Baker  was  nominated  and  sup- 
ported by  Mr.  Arndt.  This  nomination  was  opposed  by 
Vinyard,  who  wanted  the  appointment  to  vest  in  his  own 
brother.  In  the  course  of  debate,  the  deceased  made  some 
statements  which  Vinyard  pronounced  false,  and  made  use 
of  violent  and  insulting  language,  dealing  largely  in  person- 
alities, to  which  Mr.  A.  made  no  reply.  After  the  adjourn- 
ment, Mr.  A.  stepped  up  to  Vinyard,  and  requested  him  to 
retract,  which  he  refused  to  do,  repeating  the  offensive  words. 
Mr.  Arndt  then  made  a  blow  at  Vinyard,  who  stepped  back 
a  pace,  drew  a  pistol,  and  shot  him  dead. 

"  The  issue  appears  to  have  been  provoked  on  the  part  of 
Vinyard,  who  was  determined  at  all  hazards  to  defeat  the 
appointment  of  Baker,  and  who,  himself  defeated,  turned  his 
ire  and  revenge  upon  the  unfortunate  Arndt." 

"  The  Wis consm  Tragedy. 

"  Public  indignation  runs  high  in  the  territory  of  Wiscon- 
sin, in  relation  to  the  murder  of  C.  C.  P.  Arndt,  in  the  legis- 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  227 

lative  hall  of  the  territory.  Meetings  have  been  held  in 
different  counties  of  Wisconsin,  denouncing  the  practice  of 
secretly  bearing  arms  in  the  legislative  chambers  of  the  country. 
We  have  seen  the  account  of  the  expulsion  of  James  R.  Vin- 
yard,  the  perpetrator  of  the  bloody  deed,  and  are  amazed  to 
hear,  that,  after  his  expulsion  by  those  who  saw  Vinyard  kill 
Mr.  Arndt  in  the  presence  of  his  aged  father,  who  was  on  a 
visit  to  see  his  son,  little  dreaming  that  he  was  to  witness  his 
murder,  Judge  Dunn  has  discharged  Vinyard  on  bail.  The 
Miners'  Free  Press  speaks  in  terms  of  merited  rebuke  at  the 
outrage  upon  the  feelings  of  the  people  of  Wisconsin.  Vin- 
yard was  within  arm's  length  of  Mr.  Arndt,  when  he  took 
such  deadly  aim  at  him  that  he  never  spoke.  Vinyard 
might  at  pleasure,  being  so  near,  have  only  wounded  him, 
but  he  chose  to  kill  him." 

"Murder. 

"  By  a  letter  in  a  St.  Louis  paper  of  the  14th,  we  notice  a 
terrible  outrage  at  Burlington,  Iowa.  A  Mr.  Bridgman  hav- 
ing had  a  difficulty  with  a  citizen  of  the  place,  Mr.  Ross  ;  a 
brother-in-law  of  the  latter  provided  himself  with  one  of 
Colt's  revolving  pistols,  met  Mr.  B.  in  the  street,  and  dis- 
charged the  contents  of  five  of  the  barrels  at  him  :  each  shot  tak- 
ing effect.  Mr.  B.,  though  horribly  wounded,  and  dying, 
returned  the  fire  and  killed  Ross  on  the  spot." 

"  Terrible  death  of  Robert  Potter. 

"  From  the  '  Caddo  Gazette,'  of  the  12th  inst.,  we  learn 
the  frightful  death  of  Colonel  Robert  Potter.*  *  *  *  He 
was  beset  in  his  house  by  an  enemy,  named  Rose.  He  sprang 
from  his  couch,  seized  his  gun,  and,  in  his  night-clothes, 
rushed  from  the  house.  For  about  two  hundred  yards  his 
speed  seem  to  defy  his  pursuers  ;  but,  getting  entangled  in 
a  thicket,  he  was  captured.  |lose  told  him  that  he  intetided 
to  act  a  generous  part  and  give  him  a  chance  for  his  life.  He 
then  told  Potter  he  might  run,  and  he  should  not  be  inter- 
rupted till  he  reached  a  certain  distance.  Potter  started  at 
the  word  of  command,  and  before  a  gun  was  fired  he  had 
reached  the  lake.  His  first  impulse  was  to  jump  in  the  water 
and  dive  for  it,  which  he  did.  Rose  was  close  behind  him, 
and  formed  his  men  on  the  bank  ready  to  shoot  him  as  he 
rose.     In  a  few  seconds  he  came  up  to  breathe  ;  and  scarce 


228  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

had  his  head  reached  the  surface  of  the  water  when  it  was 
completely  riddled  with  the  shot  of  their  guns,  and  he  sunk, 
to  rise  no  more  !  " 

"Murder  in  Arkansas. 

"  We  understand  that  a  severe  rencontre  came  off  a  few  days 
since  in  the  Seneca  Nation,  between  Mr.  Loose,  the  sub-agent 
of  the  mixed  band  of  the  Senecas,  Quapaw,  and  Shawnees, 
and  Mr.  James  Gillespie,  of  the  mercantile  firm  of  Thomas  G. 
Allison  and  Co.,  of  Maysville,  Benton  County,  Ark.,  in  which 
the  latter  was  slain  with  a  bowie-knife.  Some  difficulty  had 
for  some  time  existed  between  the  parties.  It  is  said  that 
Major  Gillespie  brought  on  the  attack  with  a  cane.  A  severe 
conflict  ensued,  during  which  two  pistols  were  fired  by  Gil- 
lespie and  one  by  Loose.  Loose  then  stabbed  Gillespie  with 
one  of  those  never-failing  weapons,  a  bowie-knife.  The 
death  of  Major  G.  is  much  regretted,  as  he  was  a  liberal- 
minded  and  energetic  man.  Since  the  above  was  in  type, 
we  have  learned  that  Major  Allison  has  stated  to  one  of  our 
citizens  in  town  that  Mr.  Loose  gave  the  first  blow.  We  for- 
bear to  give  any  particulars,  as  the  matter  tvill  be  the  subject 
of  judicial  investigation." 

"  Foul  Deed. 

"  The  steamer  Thames,  just  from  Missouri  River,  brought 
us  a  handbill,  offering  a  reward  of  500  dollars,  for  the  per- 
son who  assassinated  Lilburn  W.  Baggs,  late  governor  of  this 
state,  at  Independence,  on  the  night  of  the  6th  inst.  Gover- 
nor Baggs,  it  is  stated  in  a  written  memorandum,  was  not 
dead,  but  mortally  wounded. 

"  Since  the  above  was  written,  we  received  a  note  from 
the  clerk  of  the  Thames,  giving  the  following  particulars. 
Gov.  Baggs  was  shot  by  some  villain  on  Friday,  6th  inst.,  in 
the  evening,  while  sitting  in  a  room  in  his  own  house  in  In- 
dependence. His  son,  a  boy,  hearing  a  report,  ran  into  the 
room,  and  found  the  governer  sitting  in  his  chair,  with  his 
jaw  fallen  down,  and  his  head  leaning  back  ;  on  discovering 
the  injury  done  to  his  father,  he  gave  the  alarm.  Foot  tracks 
were  found  in  the  garden  below  the  window,  and  a  pistol 
picked  up,  supposed  to  be  overloaded,  and  thrown  from  the 
hand  of  the  scoundrel  who  fired  it.  Three  buck  shots  of  a 
heavy  load,  took  effect ;  one  going  through  his  mouth,  one 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  229 

into  the  brain,. and  another  probably  in  or  near  the  brain; 
all  going  into  the  back  part  of  the  neck  and  head.  The 
governor  was  still  alive  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  ;  but  no 
hopes  for  his  recovery  by  his  friends,  and  but  slight  hopes 
from  his  physicians. 

"  A  man  was  suspected,  and  the  sheriff  most  probably  has 
possession  of  him  by  this  time. 

"  The  pistol  was  one  of  a  pair  stolen  some  days  previous 
from  a  baker  in  Independence,  and  the  legal  authorities  have 
the  description  of  the  other." 

"  Rencontre. 

"  An  unfortunate  affair  took  place  on  Friday  evening  in 
Chatres  Street,  in  which  one  of  our  most  respectable  citizens 
received  a  dangerous  wound,  from  a  poniard,  in  the  abdo- 
men. From  the  Bee  (New  Orleans)  of  yesterday,  we  learn 
the  following  particulars.  It  appears  that  an  article  was 
published  in  the  French  side  of  the  paper  on  Monday  last, 
containing  some  strictures  on  the  artillery  battalion  for  fir- 
ing their  guns  on  Sunday  morning,  in  answer  to  those  from 
the  Ontario  and  Woodbury,  and  thereby  much  alarm  was 
caused  to  the  families  of  those  persons  who  were  out  all 
night  preserving  the  peace  of  the  city.  Major  C.  Galley, 
commander  of  the  battalion,  resented  this,  called  at  the  of- 
fice and  demanded  the  author's  name  ;  that  of  Mr.  P.  Arpin 
was  given  to  him,  who  was  absent  at  the  time.  Some  angry 
words  then  passed  with  one  of  the  proprietors,  and  a  chal- 
lenge followed  ;  the  friends  of  both  parties  tried  to  arrange 
the  affair,  but  failed  to  do  so.  On  Friday  evening,  about 
seven  o'clock,  Major  Galley  met  Mr.  P.  Arpin  in  Chatres 
Street,  and  accosted  him  *  Are  you  Mr.  Arpin  ?  ' 

u<  Yes,  sir.' 

" '  Then  I  have  to  tell  you  that  you  are  a — '  (applying  an 
appropriate  epithet). 

'  I  shall  remind  you  of  your  words,  sir.' 

"  *  But  I  have  said  I  would  break  my  cane  on  your  shoul- 
ders.' 

"  '  I  know  it,  but  I  have  not  yet  received  the  blow.' 

"  At  these  words,  Major  Galley,  having  a  cane  in  his  hands, 
struck  Mr.  Alpin  across  the  face,  and  the  latter  drew  a  pon- 
iard from  his  pocket  and  stabbed  Mr.  Galley  in  the  abdo- 
men. 

"  Fears  are   entertained  that  the  wound  will  be  mortal. 


230  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

We  understand  that  Mr.  A  r pin  has  given  security  fot  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  criminal  court  to  answer  the  charge" 

"  Affray  in  Mississippi. 

•  On  the  27  th  ult.,  in  an  affray  near  Carthage,  Lake  County, 
Mississippi,  between  James  Cottingham  and  John  Wilburn, 
the  latter  was  shot  by  the  former,  and  so  horribly  wounded, 
that  there  was  no  hope  for  his  recovery.  On  the  2d  instant, 
there  was  an  affray  at  Carthage  between  A.  C.  Sharkey  and 
George  Goff,  in  which  the  latter  was  shot,  and  thought  mor- 
tally wounded.  Sharkey  delivered  himself  up  to  the  author- 
ities, but  changed  his  mind  and  escaped  J  " 

li  Personal  Encounter. 

0  An  encounter  took  place  in  Sparta,  a  few  days  since, 
between  the  barkeeper  of  an  hotel,  and  a  man  named  Bury. 
It  appears  that  Bury  had  become  somewhat  noisy,  and  that 
the  barkeeper •,  determined  to  preserve  order,  had  threatened  to 
shoot  Bury,  whereupon  Bury  drew  a  pistol  and  shot  the  bar- 
keeper down.  He  was  not  dead  at  the  last  accounts,  but 
slight  hopes  were  entertained  of  his  recovery." 

"  Duel. 

"  The  clerk  of  the  steamboat  Tribune  informs  us  that 
another  duel  was  fought  on  Tuesday  last,  by  Mr.  Robbins, 
a  bank  officer  in  Vicksburg,  and  Mr.  Fall,  the  editor  of  the 
Vicksburg  Sentinel.  According  to  the  arrangement,  the 
parties  had  six  pistols  each,  which  after  the  word  4  Fire  !  ' 
they  were  to  discharge  as  fast  as  they  pleased.  Fall  fired  two 
pistols  without  effect.  Mr.  Robbins's  first  shot  took  effect  in 
Fall's  thigh,  who  fell  and  was  unable  to  continue  the  combat." 

"  Affray  in  Clarke  County. 

"  An  unfortunate  affray  occurred  in  Clarke  County  (Mo.), 
near  Waterloo,  on  Tuesday  the  19th  ult.,  which  originated 
in  settling  the  partnership  concerns  of  Messrs.  M'Kane  and 
M'Allister,  who  had  been  engaged  in  the  business  of  distill- 
ing, and  resulted  in  the  death  of  the  latter,  who  was  shot 
down  by  Mr.  M'Kane,  because  of  his  attempting  to  take 
possession    of    seven    barrels  of   whisky,  the  property  .of 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  231 

M'Kane,  which  had  been  knocked  off  to  M'Allister  at  a 
sheriff's  sale  at  one  dollar  per  barrel.  M'Kane  immediately 
fled  and  ai  the  latest  dates  had  not  been  taken. 

This  unfortunate  affray  caused  considerable  excitement  in 
the  neighborhood,  as  both  the  parties  were  men  with  large 
families  depending  upon  them  and  stood  well  in  the  com- 
munity." 

I  will  quote  but  one  more  paragraph,  which,  by  reason  of 
its  monstrous  absurdity,  may  be  a  relief  to  these  atrocious 
deeds. 

"  Affair  of  Honor. 

"  We  have  just  heard  the  particulars  of  a  meeting  which 
took  place  on  Six  Mile  Island,  on  Tuesday,  between  two 
young  bloods  of  our  city  :  Samuel  Thurston,  aged  fifteen, 
and  William  Hine,  aged  thirteen  years.  They  were  attended 
by  young  gentlemen  of  the  same  age.  The  weapons  used 
on  the  occasion,  were  a  couple  of  Dickson's  best  rifles  ;  the 
distance,  thirty  yards.  They  took  one  fire,  without  any 
damage  being  sustained  by  either  party,  except  the  ball  of 
Thurston's  gun  passing  through  the  crown  of  Hine's  hat. 
Through  the  intercession  of  the  Board  of  Honor,  the  chal- 
lenge was  withdrawn,  and  the  difference  amicably  adjusted."' 

If  the  reader  will  picture  to  himself  the  kind  of  Board  of 
Honor  which  amicably  adjusted  the  difference  between  these 
two  little  boys,  who  in  any  other  part  of  the  world  would 
have  been  amicably  adjusted  on  two  porters'  backs  and 
soundly  flogged  with  birchen  rods,  he  will  be  possessed,  no 
doubt,  with  as  strong  a  sense  of  its  ludicrous  character,  as 
that  which  sets  me  laughing  whenever  its  image  rises  up 
before  me. 

Now,  I  appeal  to  every  humane  mind,  imbued  with  the 
commonest  of  common  sense,  and  the  commonest  of  common 
humanity  ;  to  all  dispassionate,  reasoning  creatures,  of  any 
shade  of  opinion  ;  and  ask,  with  these  revolting  evidences  of 
the  state  of  society  which  exists  in  and  about  the  slave  dis- 
tricts of  America  before  them,  can  they  have  a  doubt  of  the 
real  condition  of  the  slaves,  or  can  they  for  a  moment  make 
a  compromise  between  *he  institution  or  any  of  its  flagrant 
fearful  features,  and  their  own  just  consciences  ?  Will  they 
say  of  any  tale  of  cruelty  and  horror,  however  aggravated  in 
degree,  that  it  is  improbable,  when  they  can  turn  to  the 
public  prints,  and,  running,  read  such  signs  as  these,  laid  before 


3S*  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

them  by  the  men  who  rule  the  slaves  :  in  their  own  acts  and 
under  their  own  hands  ? 

Do  we  not  know  that  the  worst  deformity  and  ugliness  of 
slavery  are  at  once  the  cause  and  the  effect  of  the  reckless 
license  taken  by  these  freeborn  outlaws  ?  Do  we  not  know 
that  the  man  who  has  been  born  and  bred  among  its  wrongs  ; 
who  has  seen  in  his  childhood  husbands  obliged  at  the  word 
of  command  to  flog  their  wives  ;  women,  indecently  compelled 
to  hold  up  their  own  garments  that  men  might  lay  the  heavier 
stripes  upon  their  legs,  driven  and  harried  by  brutal  over- 
seers in  their  time  of  travail,  and  becoming  mothers  on  the 
field  of  toil,  under  the  very  lash  itself ;  who  has  read  in 
youth,  and  seen  his  virgin  sisters  read,  descriptions  of  run- 
away men  and  women,  and  their  disfigured  persons,  which 
could  not  be  published  elsewhere,  of  so  much  stock  upon  a 
farm,  or  at  a  show  of  beasts  : — do  we  not  know  that  that 
man,  whenever  his  wrath  is  kindled  up,  will  be  a  brutal 
savage  ?  Do  we  not  know  that  as  he  is  a  coward  in  his 
domestic  life,  stalking  among  his  shrinking  men  and  women 
slaves  armed  with  his  heavy  whip,  so  he  will  be  a  coward 
out  of  doors,  and,  carrying  cowards'  weapons  hidden  in  his 
breast,  will  shoot  men  down  and  stab  them  when  he  quarrels  ? 
And  if  our  reason  did  not  teach  ns  this  and  much  beyond  ;  if 
we  were  such  idiots  as  to  close  our  eyes  to  that  fine  mode 
of  training  which  rears  up  such  men  ;  should  we  not  know 
that  they  who  among  their  equals  stab  and  pistol  in  the 
legislative  halls,  and  in  the  counting-house,  and  on  the 
market-place,  and  in  all  the  elsewhere  peaceful  pursuits  of 
life,  must  be  to  their  dependents,  even  though  they  were 
free  servants,  so  many  merciless  and  unrelenting  tyrants  ? 

What  !  shall  we  declaim  against  the  ignorant  peasantry 
of  Ireland,  and  mince  the  matter  when  these  American  task- 
masters are  in  question  ?  Shall  we  cry  shame  on  the  brutality 
of  those  who  hamstring  cattle  ;  and  spare  the  lights  of 
Freedom  upon  earth  who  notch  the  ears  of  men  and  women, 
cut  pleasant  posies  in  the  shrinking  flesh,  learn  to  write  with 
pens  of  red-hot  iron  on  the  human  face,  rack  their  poetic 
fancies  for  liveries  of  mutilation  which  their  slaves  shall 
wear  for  life  and  carry  to  the  grave,  breaking  living  limbs 
as  did  the  soldiery  who  mocked  and  slew  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  and  set  defenseless  creatures  up  for  targets  ? 
Shall  we  whimper  over  legends  of  the  tortures  practiced  on 
each  other  by  the  Pagan  Indians,  and  smile  upon  the  cruel- 
ties of  Christian  men  ?    Shall  we,  so  long  as  these  things  last, 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  233 

exult  above  the  scattered  remnants  of  that  race,  and  tri- 
umph in  the  white  enjoyment  of  their  possessions  ?  Rather, 
for  me,  restore  the  forest  and  the  Indian  village  ;  in  lieu  of 
stars  and  stripes,  let  some  poor  feather  flutter  in  the  breeze  •, 
replace  the  streets  and  squares  by  wigwams  ;  and  though 
the  death-song  of  a  hundred  haughty  warriors  fill  the  air,  it 
will  be  music  to  the  shriek  of  one  unhappy  slave. 

On  one  theme,  which  is  commonly  before  our  eyes,  and 
in  respect  of  which  our  national  character  is  changing  fast, 
let  the  plain  truth  be  spoken,  and  let  us  not,  like  dastards, 
beat  about  the  bush  by  hinting  at  the  Spaniard  and  the 
fierce  Italian.  When  knives  are  drawn  by  Englishmen  in 
conflict  let  it  be  said  and  known  :  "  We  owe  this  change  to 
Republican  Slavery.  These  are  the  weapons  of  Freedom. 
With  sharp  points  and  edges  such  as  these,  Liberty  in 
America  hews  and  hacks  her  slaves  ;  or,  failing  that  pursuit, 
her  sons  devote  them  to  a  better  use,  and  turn  them  on  each 
other." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

CONCLUDING     REMARKS. 

There  are  many  passages  in  this  book,  where  I  ha\  4  oeen 
at  some  pains  to  resist  the  temptation  of  troubling  my 
readers  with  my  own  deductions  and  conclusions  :  prefer- 
ring that  they  should  judge  for  themselves,  from  such 
premises  as  I  have  laid  before  them.  My  only  object  in  the 
outset,  was,  to  carry  them  with  me  faithfully  wheresoever  I 
went :  and  that  task  I  have  discharged. 

But  I  may  be  pardoned,  if  on  such  a  theme  as  the  general 
character  of  the  American  people,  and  the  general  character 
of  their  social  system,  as  presented  to  a  stranger's  eyes,  I 
desire  to  express  my  own  opinions  in  a  few  words,  before  I 
bring  these  volumes  to  a  close.  , 

They  are,  by  nature,  frank,  brave,  cordial,  hospitable,  and 
affectionate.  Cultivation  and  refinement  seem  but  to  en- 
hance their  warmth  of  heart  and  ardent  enthusiasm  ;  and 
it  is  the  possession  of  these  latter  qualities  in  a  most  remark- 
able degree,  which  renders  an  educated  American  one  of 
the  most  endearing  and  most  generous  of  friends.  I  neTer 
was  so  won  upon,  as  by  this  class  ;  never  yielded  up  my  full 
confidence  and  esteem  so  readily  and  pleasurably,  as  to 


2 34  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

them  ;  never  can  make  again,  in  half  a  year,  so  many  friends 
for  whom  I  seem  to  entertain  the  regard  of  half  a  life. 

These  qualities  are  natural,  I  implicitly  believe,  to  the 
whole  people.  That  they  are,  however,  sadly  sapped  and 
blighted  in  their  growth  among  the  mass  ;  and  that  there 
are  influences  at  work  which  endanger  them  still  more,  and 
give  but  little  present  promise  of  their  healthy  restoration  ;  is 
a  truth  that  ought  to  be  told. 

It  is  an  essential  part  of  every  national  character  to  pique 
itself  mightily  upon  its  faults,  and  to  deduce  tokens  of  its 
virtue  or  its  wisdom  from  their  very  exaggeration.  One 
great  blemish  in  the  popular  mind  of  America,  and  the  pro- 
lific parent  of  an  innumerable  brood  of  evils,  is  universal 
distrust.  Yet  the  American  citizen  plumes  himself  upon 
this  spirit,  even  when  he  is  sufficiently  dispassionate  to  per- 
ceive the  ruin  it  works  ;  and  will  often  adduce  it,  in  spite  of 
his  own  reason,  as  an  instance  of  the  great  sagacity  and 
acuteness  of  the  people,  and  their  superior  shrewdness  and 
independence. 

"You  carry,"  says  the  stranger,  "this  jealousy  and  dis- 
trust into  every  transaction  of  public  life.  By  repelling 
worthy  men  from  your  legislative  assemblies,  it  has  bred  up 
a  class  of  candidates  for  the  suffrage,  who,  in  their  every 
act,  disgrace  your  institutions  and  your  people's  choice.  It 
has  rendered  you  so  fickle,  and  so  given  to  change,  that 
your  inconstancy  has  passed  into  a  proverb  ;  for  you  no 
sooner  set  up  an  idol  firmly  than  you  are  sure  to  pull  it 
down  and  dash  it  into  fragments  ;  and  this,  because  directly 
you  reward  a  benefactor,  or  a  public  servant,  you  distrust 
him,  merely  because  he  is  rewarded  ;  and  immediately  apply 
yourselves  to  find  out,  either  that  you  have  been  too  bounti- 
ful in  your  acknowledgments,  or  he  is  remiss  in  his  deserts. 
Any  man  who  attains  a  high  place  among  you,  from  the 
president  downward,  may  date  his  downfall  from  that  mo- 
ment ;  for  any  printed  lie  that  any  notorious  villain  pens, 
although  it  militate  directly  against  the  character  and  con- 
duct of  a  life,  appeals  at  once  to  your  distrust,  and  is  be- 
lieved. You  will  strain  at  a  gnat  in  the  way  of  trustfulness 
and  confidence,  however  fairly  won  and  deserved  ;  but  you 
will  swallow  a  whole  caravan  of  camels,  if  they  be  laden 
with  unworthy  doubts  and  mean  suspicions.  Is  this  well, 
think  you,  or  likely  to  elevate  the  character  of  the  govern- 
ors or  the  governed,  among  you  ? " 

The  answer  is  invariably  the  same  :  "  There's  freedom  of 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  235 

opinion  here,  yon  know.  Every  man  thinks  for  himself, 
and  we  are  not  to  be  easily  overreached.  That's  how  our 
people  come  to  be  suspicious." 

Another  prominent  feature  is  the  love  of  "  smart "  deal- 
ing .  which  gilds  over  many  a  swindle  and  gross  breach  of 
trust ;  many  a  defalcation,  public  and  private  ;  and  enables 
many  a  knave  to  hold  his  head  up  with  the  best — who  well 
deserves  a  halter  ;  though  it  has  not  been  without  its  retrib- 
utive operation,  for  this  smartness  has  done  more  in  a  few 
years  to  impair  the  public  credit,  and  to  cripple  the  public 
resources,  than  dull  honesty,  however  rash,  could  have  ef- 
fected in  a  century.  The  merits  of  broken  speculation,  or 
a  bankruptcy,  or  of  a  successful  scoundrel,  are  not  gauged 
by  its  or  his  observance  of  the  golden  rule,  "  Do  as  you 
would  be  done  by,"  but  are  considered  with  reference  to 
their  smartness.  I  recollect,  on  both  occasions  of  our 
passing  that  ill-fated  Cairo  on  the  Mississippi,  remark- 
ing on  the  bad  effects  such  gross  deceits  must  have  when 
they  exploded,  in  generating  a  want  of  confidence  abroad, 
and  discouraging  foreign  investment ;  but  I  was  given  to 
understand  that  this  was  a  very  smart  scheme  by  which  a 
deal  of  money  had  been  made  ;  and  that  its  smartest  feature 
was,  that  they  forgot  these  things  abroad,  in  a  very  short 
time,  and  speculated  again  as  freely  as  ever.  The  following 
dialogue  I  have  held  a  hundred  times  :  "  Is  it  not  a  very 
disgraceful  circumstance  that  such  a  man  as  So-and-so 
should  be  acquiring  a  large  property  by  the  most  infamous 
and  odious  means,  and  notwithstanding  all  the  crimes  of 
which  he  has  been  guilty,  should  be  tolerated  and  abetted 
by  your  citizens  ?  He  is  a  public  nuisance,  is  he  not  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir."  "A  convicted  liar?"  "Yes,  sir."  "He  has 
been  kicked,  and  curled,  and  caned  ?  "  "  Yes,  sir."  "  And 
he  is  utterly  dishonorable,  debased  and  profligate  ?  "  "  Yes, 
sir."  "In  the  name  of  wonder,  then,  what  is  his  merit  ?" 
"  Well,  sir,  he  is  a  smart  man." 

In  like  manner,  all  kinds  of  deficient  and  impolitic  usages 
are  referred  to  the  national  love  of  trade  ;  though,  oddly 
enough,  it  would  be  a  weighty  charge  against  a  foreigner 
that  he  regarded  the  Americans  as  a  trading  people.  The 
love  of  trade  is  assigned  as  a  reason  for  that  comfortless 
custom,  so  very  prevalent  in  country  towns,  of  married  per- 
sons living  in  hotels,  having  no  fireside  of  their  own,  and 
seldom  meeting  from  early  morning  until  late  at  night,  but 
at  the  hasty  public  meals.     The  love  of  trade  is  the  reason 


236  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

why  the  literature  of  America  is  to  remain  forever  unpro- 
tected :  "  For  we  are  a  trading  people,  and  don't  care  for 
poetry  ;  "  though  we  do,  by  the  way,  profess  to  be  very  proud 
of  our  poets  ;  while  healthful  amusements,  cheerful  means 
of  recreation,  and  wholesome  fancies,  must  fade  before  the 
stern  utilitarian  joys  of  trade. 

These  three  characteristics  are  strongly  presented  at  every 
turn,  full  in  the  stranger's  view.  But  the  foul  growth  of 
America  has  a  more  tangled  root  than  this  ;  and  it  strikes 
its  fibers  deep  in  its  licentious  press. 

Schools  may  be  erected,  East,  West,  North,  and  South  ; 
pupils  be  taught,  and  masters  reared,  by  scores  upon  scores  of 
thousands  ;  colleges  may  thrive,  churches  may  be  crammed, 
temperance  may  be  diffused,  and  advancing  knowledge 
in  all  other  forms  walk  through  the  land  with  giant  strides  : 
but  while  the  newspaper  press  of  America  is  in,  or  near,  its 
present  abject  state,  high  moral  improvement  in  that  country 
is  hopeless.  Year  by  year,  it  must  and  will  go  back  ;  year 
by  year,  the  tone  of  public  feeling  must  sink  lower  down  ; 
year  by  year  the  Congress  and  the  Senate  must  become  of 
less  account  before  all  decent  men  ;  and  year  by  year,  the 
memory  of  the  great  fathers  of  the  Revolution  must  be  out- 
raged more  and  more  in  the  bad  life  of  their  degenerate 
child. 

Among  the  herd  of  journals  which  are  published  in  the 
States,  there  are  some,  the  reader  scarcely  need  be  told,  of 
character  and  credit.  From  personal  intercourse  with  ac- 
complished gentlemen  connected  with  publications  of  this 
class,  I  have  derived  both  pleasure  and  profit.  But  the  name 
of  these  is  Few,  and  of  the  others  Legion  ;  and  the  influence 
of  the  good  is  powerless  to  counteract  the  moral  poison  of 
the  bad. 

Among  the  gentry  of  America  ;  among  the  well-informed 
and  moderate  ;  in  the  learned  professions  ;  at  the  bar  and  on 
the  bench  :  there  is,  as  there  can  be,  but  one  opinion,  in  ref- 
erence to  the  vicious  character  of  these  infamous  journals. 
It  is  sometimes  contended — I  will  not  say  strangely,  for  it  is 
natural  to  seek  excuses  for  such  a  disgrace — that  their  influ- 
ence is  not  so  great  as  a  visitor  would  suppose.  I  must  be 
pardoned  for  saying  that  there  is  no  warrant  for  this  plea, 
and  that  every  fact  and  circumstance  tends  directly  to  the 
opposite  conclusion. 

When  any  man,  of  any  grade  of  desert  in  intellect  or  char- 
acter, can  climb  to  any  public  distinction,  no  matter  what, 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  237 

in  America,  without  first  groveling  down  upon  the  earth, 
and  bending  the  knee  before  this  monster  of  depravity  ; 
when  any  private  excellence  is  safe  from  its  attacks  ;  when 
any  social  confidence  is  left  unbroken  by  it,  or  any  tie  of 
social  decency  and  honor  is  held  in  the  least  regard  ;  when 
any  man  in  that  free  country  has  freedom  of  opinion,  and 
presumes  to  think  for  himself,  and  speak  for  himself,  without 
humble  reference  to  a  censorship  which,  for  its  rampant 
ignorance  and  base  dishonesty,  he  utterly  loathes  and  des- 
pises in  his  heart  ;  when  those  who  most  acutely  feel  its  in- 
famy and  the  reproach  it  casts  upon  the  nation,  and  who 
most  denounce  it  to  each  other,  dare  to  set  their  heels  upon 
and  crush  it  openly,  in  the  sight  of  all  men  :  then,  I  will 
believe  that  its  influence  is  lessening,  and  men  are  returning 
to  their  manly  senses.  But  while  that  press  has  its  evil  eye  in 
every  house,  and  its  black  hand  in  every  appointment  in  the 
state,  from  a  president  to  a  postman  ;  while,  with  ribald 
slander  for  its  only  stock  in  trade,  it  is  the  standard  literature 
of  an  enormous  class,  who  must  find  their  reading  in  a  news- 
paper, or  they  will  not  read  at  all  ;  so  long  must  its  odium  be 
upon  the  country's  head,  and  so  long  must  the  evil  it  works, 
be  plainly  visible  in  the  republic. 

To  those  who  are  accustomed  to  the  leading  English  jour- 
nals, or  to  the  respectable  journals  of  the  Continent  of 
Europe  ;  to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  any  thing  else  in 
print  and  paper  ;  it  would  be  impossible,  without  an  amount 
of  extract  for  which  I  have  neither  space  nor  inclination,  to 
convey  an  adequate  idea  of  this  frightful  engine  in  America. 
But  if  any  man  desire  confirmation  of  my  statement  on  this 
head,  let  him  repair  to  any  place  in  this  city  of  London, 
where  scattered  numbers  of  these  publications  are  to  be 
found  ;  and  there,  let  him  form  his  own  opinion.* 

It  would  be  well,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  for  the  American 
people  as  a  whole,  if  they  loved  the  real  less,  and  the  ideal 
somewhat  more.  It  would  be  well  if  there  were  greater  en- 
couragement to  lightness  of  heart  and  gayety,  and  a  wider 
cultivation  of  what  is  beautiful,  without  being  eminently  and 
directly  useful.  But  here,  I  think  the  general  remonstrance 
"  we  are  a  new  country,"  which  is  so  often  advanced  as  an 
excuse  for  defects  which  are  quite  unjustifiable,  as  being  of 

"  Note  to  the  Original  Edition.— Or  let  him  refer  to  an  able,  and  perfectly 
truthful  article,  in  The  Foreign  Quarterly  Review,  published  in  the  present  month  of 
October;  to  which  my  attention  has  been  attracted,  since  these  sheets  have  been  pass- 
ing through  the  press.  He  will  find  some  specimens  there,  by  no  means  remarkable 
to  any  man  who  has  been  in  America,  but  sufficiently  striking  to  one  who  has  not. 


238  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

right  only  the  slow  growth  of  an  old  one,  may  be  very  rea- 
sonably urged  ;  and  I  yet  hope  to  hear  of  there  being  some 
other  national  amusementin  the  United  States,  besides  news- 
paper politics. 

They  certainly  are  not  a  humorous  people,  and  their  tem- 
perament always  impressed  me  as  being  of  a  dull  and  gloomy 
character.  In  shrewdness  of  remark,  and  a  certain  cast- 
iron  quaintness,  the  Yankees,  or  people  of  New  England, 
unquestionably  take  the  lead  ;  as  they  do  in  most  other 
evidences  of  intelligence.  But  in  traveling  about,  out  of 
the  large  cities — as  I  have  remarked  in  former  parts  of  these 
volumes — 1  was  quite  oppressed  by  the  prevailing  serious- 
ness and  melancholy  air  of  business  :  which  was  so  general 
and  unvarying,  that  at  every  new  town  I  came  to  I  seemed 
to  meet  the  very  same  people  whom  I  had  left  behind  me 
at  the  last.  Such  defects  as  are  perceptible  in  the  national 
manners,  seem  to  me  to  be  referable,  in  a  great  degree,  to 
this  cause  :  which  has  generated  a  dull,  sullen  persistence  in 
coarse  usages  and  rejected  the  graces  of  life  as  undeserving 
of  attention.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Washington,  who  was 
always  most  scrupulous  and  exact  in  points  of  ceremony, 
perceived  the  tendency  toward  this  mistake,  even  in  his 
time,  and  did  his  utmost  to  correct  it. 

I  can  not  hold  with  other  writers  on  these  subjects  that 
the  prevalence  of  various  forms  of  dissent  in  America,  is  in 
any  way  attributable  to  the  non-existence  there  of  an  estab- 
lished church  ;  indeed,  I  think  the  temper  of  the  people,  if 
it  admitted  of  such  an  institution  being  founded  amongst 
them,  would  lead  them  to  desert  it,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
merely  because  it  was  established.  But,  supposing  it  to 
exist,  I  doubt  its  probable  efficacy  in  summoning  the  wander- 
ing sheep  to  one  great  fold,  simply  because  of  the  immense 
amount  of  dissent  which  prevails  at  home  ;  and  because  I  do 
not  find  in  America  any  one  form  of  religion  with  which  we 
in  Europe,  or  even  in  England,  are  unacquainted.  Dissent- 
ers resort  thither  in  great  numbers,  as  other  people  do, 
simply  because  it  is  a  land  of  resort  ;  and  great  settlements 
of  them  are  founded,  because  ground  can  be  purchased,  and 
towns  and  villages  reared,  where  there  were  none  of  the 
human  creation  before.  But  even  the  Shakers  emigrated 
from  England  ;  our  country  is  not  unknown  to  Mr.  Joseph 
Smith,  the  apostle  of  Mormonism,  or  to  his  benighted  dis- 
ciples ;  I  have  beheld  religious  scenes  myself  in  some  of 
our  populous  towns  which  can  hardly  be  surpassed  by  an 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  239 

American  camp-meeting  ;  and  I  am  not  aware  that  any 
instance  of  superstitious  imposture  on  the  one  hand,  and  su- 
perstitious credulity  on  the  other,  has  had  its  origin  in  the 
United  States,  which  we  can  not  more  than  parallel  by  the 
precedents  of  Mrs.  Southcote,  Mary  Tofts  the  rabbit- 
breeder,  or  even  Mr.  Thorn  of  Canterbury  ;  which  latter 
case  arose,  sometime  after  the  dark  ages  had  passed  away. 

The  republican  institutions  of  America  undoubtedly  lead 
the  people  to  assert  their  self-respect  and  their  equality  ; 
but  a  traveler  is  bound  to  bear  those  institutions  in  his 
mind,  and  not  hastily  to  resent  the  near  approach  of  a  class 
of  strangers,  who,  at  home,  would  keep  aloof.  This  charac- 
teristic, when  it  was  tinctured  with  no  foolish  pride,  and 
stopped  short  of  no  honest  service,  never  offended  me  ;  and 
I  very  seldom,  if  ever,  experienced  its  rude  or  unbecom- 
ing display.  Once  or  twice  it  was  comically  developed, 
as  in  the  following  case  ;  but  this  was  an  amusing  incident, 
and  not  the  rule,  or  near  it  : 

I  wanted  a  pair  of  boots  at  a  certain  town,  for  I  had  none 
to  travel  in  but  those  with  the  memorable  cork  soles,  which 
were  much  too  hot  for  the  fiery  decks  of  a  steamboat.  I 
therefore  sent  a  message  to  an  artist  in  boots,  importing, 
with  my  compliments,  that  I  should  be  happy  to  see  him,  if 
he  would  do  me  the  polite  favor  to  call.  He  very  kindly 
returned  for  answer,  that  he  would  "  look  round  "  at  six 
o'clock  that  evening. 

I  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  with  a  book  and  a  wine-glass,  at 
about  that  time,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  gentleman  in  a 
stiff  cravat,  within  a  year  or  two  on  either  side  of  thirty,  en- 
tered, in  his  hat  and  gloves  ;  walked  up  to  the  looking,-glass  ; 
arranged  his  hair  ;  took  off  his  gloves  ;  slowly  produced  a 
a  measure  from  the  uttermost  depths  of  his  coat  pocket  ;  and 
requested  me,  in  a  languid  tone,  to  "  unfix  "  my  traps.  I 
complied,  but  looked  with  some  curiosity  at  his  hat,  which 
was  still  upon  his  head.  It  might  have  been  that,  or  it  might 
have  been  the  heat — but  he  took  it  off.  Then,  he  sat  himself 
down  on  a  chair  opposite  to  me  ;  resting  an  arm  on  each 
knee  ;  and,  leaning  forward  very  much,  took  from  the  ground, 
by  a  great  effort,  the  specimen  of  metropolitan  workmanship 
which  I  had  just  pulled  off  :  whistling,  pleasantly,  as  he  did 
so.  He  turned  it  over  and  over  ;  surveyed  it  with  a  contempt 
no  language  can  express  ;  and  inquired  if  I  wished  him  to 
fix  me  a  boot  like  that?  I  courteously  replied,  that,  provided 
the  boots  were  large  enough,  I  would  leave  the  rest  to  him  ; 


24°  AMERICAN  NOTES. 

that  if  convenient  and  practicable,  I  should  not  object  to  their 
bearing  some  resemblance  to  the  model  then  before  him  ;  but 
that  I  would  be  entirely  guided  by,  and  would  beg  to  leave 
the  whole  subject  to,  his  judgment  and  discretion.  "You 
ain't  partickler,  about  this  scoop  in  the  heel,  I  suppose  then  ? " 
says  he  ;  "  we  don't  foller  that,  here."  I  repeated  my  last 
observation.  He  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass  again  ;  went 
closer  to  it  to  dash  a  grain  or  two  of  dust  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  ;  and  settled  his  cravat.  All  this  time,  my  leg  and 
foot  were  in  the  air.  "  Nearly  ready,  sir  ? "  I  inquired. 
"Well,  pretty  nigh,"  he  said  ;  "keep  steady."  I  kept  as 
steady  as  I  could,  both  in  foot  and  face  ;  and  having  by  this 
time  got  the  dust  out,  and  found  his  pencil-case,  he  measured 
me,  and  made  the  necessary  notes.  When  he  had  finished, 
he  fell  into  his  old  attitude,  and  taking  up  the  boot  again, 
mused  for  some  time.  "And  this,"  he  said  at  last,  "  is  an 
English  boot,  is  it  ?  This  is  a  London  boot,  eh  ? " — "  That, 
sir,"  I  replied,  "  is  a  London  boot."  He  mused  over  it  again 
after  the  manner  of  Hamlet  with  Yorick's  skull ;  nodded  his 
head,  as  who  should  say,  "  I  pity  the  institutions  that  led  to 
the  production  of  this  boot  !  "  rose  ;  put  up  his  pencil,  notes, 
and  paper — glancing  at  himself  in  the  glass  all  the  time — put 
on  his  hat  ;  drew  on  his  gloves  very  slowly;  and  finally  walked 
out.  When  he  had  been  gone  about  a  minute,  the  door  re- 
opened, and  his  hat  and  his  head  reappeared.  He  looked 
round  the  room,  and  at  the  boot  again,  which  was  still  lying 
on  the  floor  ;  appeared  thoughtful  for  a  minute  ;  and  then 
said  "  Well,  good  arternoon." — '•  Good  afternoon,  sir,"  said 
I  ;  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  interview. 

There  is  but  one  other  head  on  which  I  wish  to  offer  a  re- 
mark ;  and  that  has  reference  to  the  public  health.  In  so 
vast  a  country,  where  there  are  thousands  of  millions  of  acres 
of  land  yet  unsettled  and  uncleared,  and  on  every  rood  of 
which  vegetable  decomposition  is  annually  taking  place  ; 
where  there  are  so  many  great  rivers,  and  such  opposite  vari- 
eties of  climate  ;  there  can  not  fail  to  be  a  great  amount  of 
sickness  at  certain  seasons.  But  I  may  venture  to  say,  after 
conversing  with  many  members  of  the  medical  profession  in 
America,  that  I  am  not  singular  in  the  opinion  that  much  of 
the  disease  which  does  'prevail  might  be  avoided,  if  a  few 
common  precautions  were  observed.  Greater  means  of  per- 
sonal cleanliness  are  indispensable  to  this  end  ;  the  custom 
of  hastily  swallowing  large  quantities  of  animal  food,  three 
times  a  day,  and  rushing  back  to  sedentary  pursuits  after  each 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  24T 

meal,  must  be  changed  ;  the  gentler  sex  must  go  more  wisely 
clad  and  take  more  healthful  exercise  ;  and  in  the  latter 
clause,  the  males  must  be  included  also.  Above  all,  in  public 
institutions,  and  throughout  the  whole  of  every  town  and 
city,  the  system  of  ventilation,  and  drainage,  and  removal  of 
impurities,  requires  to  be  thoroughly  revised.  There  is  no 
local  legislature  in  America  which  may  not  study  Mr.  Chad- 
wick's  excellent  report  upon  the  sanitary  condition  of  our 
laboring  classes,  with  immense  advantage. 


I  have  now  arrived  at  the  close  of  this  book.  I  have  little 
reason  to  believe,  from  certain  warnings  I  have  had  since  I 
returned  to  England,  that  it  will  be  tenderly  or  favorably 
received  by  the  American  people  ;  and  as  I  have  written  the 
truth  in  relation  to  the  mass  of  those  who  form  their  judg- 
ments and  express  their  opinions,  it  will  be  seen  that  I  have 
no  desire  to  court,  by  any  adventitious  means,  the  popular 
applause. 

It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  what  I  have  set  down 
in  these  pages  can  not  cost  me  a  single  friend  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  who  is,  in  any  thing,  deserving  of  the 
name.  For  the  rest,  I  put  my  trust,  implicitly,  in  the  spirit 
in  which  they  have  been  conceived  and  penned  ;  and  I  can 
bide  my  time. 

I  have  made  no  reference  to  my  reception,  nor  have  I  suf- 
fered it  to  influence  me  in  what  I  have  written  ;  for,  in  either 
case,  I  should  have  offered  but  a  sorry  acknowledgment, 
compared  with  that  I  bear  within  my  breast,  toward  those 
partial  readers  of  my  former  books,  across  the  water,  who 
met  me  with  an  open  hand,  and  not  with  one  that  closed  upon 
an  iron  muzzle. 


THE   END. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


At  a  public  dinner  given  to  me  on  Saturday,  the  i8thof 
April,  1868,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  by  two  hundred  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Press  of  the  United  States  of  America,  I 
made  the  following  observations  among  others  : — 

"  So  much  of  my  voice  has  lately  been  heard  in  the  land, 
that  I  might  have  been  contented  with  troubling  you  no  fur- 
ther from  my  present  standing-point,  were  it  not  a  duty  with 
which  I  henceforth  charge  myself,  not  only  here,  but  on 
every  suitable  occasion,  whatsoever  and  wheresoever,  to  ex- 
press my  high  and  grateful  sense  of  my  second  reception  in 
America,  and  to  bear  my  honest  testimony  to  the  national 
generosity  and  magnanimity.  Also,  to  declare  how  astounded 
I  have  been  by  the  amazing  changes  I  have  seen  around  me 
on  every  side — changes  moral,  changes  physical,  changes  in 
the  amount  of  land  subdued  and  peopled,  changes  in  the  rise 
of  vast  new  cities,  changes  in  the  growth  of  older  cities  almost 
out  of  recognition,  changes  in  the  graces  and  amenities  of 
life,  changes  in  the  press,  without  whose  advancement  no 
advancement  can  take  place  anywhere.  Nor  am  I,  believe 
me,  so  arrogant  as  to  suppose  that  in  five-and-twenty  years 
there  have  been  no  changes  in  me,  and  that  I  had  nothing  to 
learn  and  no  extreme  expressions  to  correct  when  I  was  here 
first.  And  this  brings  me  to  a  point  on  which  I  have,  ever 
since  I  landed  in  the  United  States  last  November,  observed 
a  strict  silence,  though  sometimes  tempted  to  break  it,  but 
in  reference  to  which  I  will,  with  your  good  leave,  take  you 
into  my  confidence  now.  Even  the  press,  being  human,  may 
be  sometimes  mistaken  or  misinformed,  and  I  rather  think 
that  I  have  in  one  or  two  rare  instances  observed  its  infor- 
mation to  be  not  strictly  accurate  with  reference  to  myself. 
Indeed,  I  have,  now  and  again,  been  more  surprised  by 
printed  news  that  I  have  read  of  myself,  than  by  any  printed 


AMERICAN  NOTES.  243 

news  that  I  have  ever  read  in  my  present  state  of  existence. 
Thus,  the  vigor  and  perseverance  with  which  I  have  for 
some  months  past  been  collecting  materials  for,  and  hammer- 
ing away  at,  a  new  book  on  America  has  much  astonished 
me  ;  seeing  that  all  that  time  my  declaration  has  been  per- 
fectly well  known  to  my  publishers  on  both  sides  of  the  At- 
lantic, that  no  consideration  on  earth  would  induce  me  to 
write  one.  But  what  I  have  intended,  what  I  have  resolved 
upon  (and  this  is  the  confidence  I  seek  to  place  in  you)  is, 
on  my  return  to  England,  in  my  own  person,  in  my  own 
journal,  to  bear,  for  thebehoof  of  my  countrymen,  such  testi- 
mony to  the  gigantic  changes  in  this  country  as  I  have 
hinted  at  10- night.  Also,  to  record  that  wherever  I  have 
been,  in  the  smallest  places  equally  with  the  largest,  I  ha  ye 
been  received  with  unsurpassable  politeness,  delicacy,  sweet 
temper,  hospitality,  consideration,  and  with  unsurpassable 
respect  for  the  privacy  daily  enforced  upon  me  by  the  na- 
ture of  my  avocation  here,  and  the  state  of  my  health.  This 
testimony,  so  long  as  I  live,  and  so  long  as  my  descendants 
have  any  legal  right  in  my  books,  I  shall  cause  to  be  repub- 
lished, as  an  appendix  to  every  copy  of  those  two  books  of 
mine  in  which  I  have  referred  to  America.  A^nd  this  I  will 
do  and  cause  to  be  done,  not  in  mere  love  and  thankfulness, 
but  because  I  regard  it  as  an  act  of  plain  justice  and  honor." 
I  said  these  words  with  the  greatest  earnestness  that  I 
could  lay  upon  them,  and  I  repeat  them  in  print  here  with 
equal  earnestness.  So  long  as  this  book  shall  last,  I  hope 
that  they  will  form  a  part  of  it,  and  will  be  fairly  read  as  in- 
separable from  my  experiences  and  impressions  of  America. 

Charles  Dickens. 
May,  1868. 


^ 


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